And Then There Were Seven
by missblueeyes63
Summary: Shortly after Sam joins Team One ... the team forgets him after a hot, hot call. Will he forget them?
1. Everyone Could Use a Cold Shower

**And Then There Were Seven**

* * *

Setting: Shortly after Sam joins Team One.

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* * *

**_Outside Brighton Complex_**

Greg grimaced at Ed as Wordy led the subject to the patrol car. Today's hot call had been a difficult one from the word go. But Team One stepped up, went above and beyond to apprehend Mr. Bailey before he could blow up his former workplace, and they freed four hostages. He wiped his sweaty brow, today a scorcher outside though with a slight breeze coming off the lake. Greg wouldn't have wanted to be one of his teammates in the building with no air conditioning for the past five hours.

Noting Jules handing water bottles to Lou and Spike he finally allowed himself to relax. They all made it out without injury or heat exhaustion. As Ed halted before him, Greg took in the sweat-drenched gray shirt of his team leader. "Unis have it from here. Let's pack up and get back to the barn. Everyone could use a cold shower."

"Absolutely." Ed leaned on the black SUV as his eyes scanned the five-story building. "Days like these make me glad someone invented AC."

The team loaded up, scattering to the three SUVs that ended up on three different sides of the building based on their original approach since they had been patrolling when the call came in.

* * *

_**SRU Barn – Briefing Room**_

Wordy carried an armful of water bottles from the breakroom fridge to the conference room. Everyone needed to rehydrate, and debriefing would be the perfect time to take care of that little detail. He dumped them on the table, several rolling away.

Spike grabbed them before they fell, a grin on his face as he snagged two and took his seat. "I could drink the entire contents of Lake Ontario right about now." He uncapped one and took a long swig as the others filtered in and sat.

Greg strolled in, and his eyes surveyed the seated SRU members, noting one shy. "Where's Sam?"

Everyone turned to scan each other, as confusion crossed their faces when they realized their rookie was missing. Ed spoke first. "Didn't see him in the locker room. Assumed he did his military fast shower. Lou, Spike, … where'd he go when you two arrived?"

Lou and Spike glanced at one another before Lou said, "Sam didn't ride back with us. Wasn't he with you, Jules?"

She shook her head. "No, … thought he went with Boss after Wordy popped into the SUV."

Without another word, Greg pulled out his phone and dialed Sam's number. It rang six times before going to voicemail. "Sam, call me now. We are about to debrief."

At the same time, Ed pivoted and strode to Winnie's desk, not having put on his headset yet after showering. "Winnie, give me a comms." After she handed one over, Ed put the earpiece in and turned it on. "Braddock, status." He waited, impatient for a response from the cocky rookie who set his teeth on edge, and just before he was about to speak again, a soft sound came over the line.

"Lane, …"

"Where the hell are you?" Ed barked.

Before Sam could answer, Spike shouted, "His cell phone is pinging from the Brighton complex."

Greg fitted his headset on as he said, "Sam, talk to me, why are you still there?"

A barely audible, "Stuck," came across the air.

"Oh shit!" Ed exclaimed as realization struck him and he started running for their SUVs. "Winnie, contact EMS … send them to the Brighton building."

The rest of the team was hot on Ed's heels, each one completely flabbergasted they could've forgotten a teammate … forgotten the new guy in the ventilation system of the building from their last hot call.

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_**AN: **_ I know really short, but there will be another chapter soon.


	2. Ducts, Regrets, and Blood

**Ducts, Regrets, and Blood**

* * *

_**Brighton Complex – Air Ducts**_

Wedged into the tight space, unable to move, Sam tried hard to cling to consciousness. He quit sweating about the same time Ed managed to talk down the subject and realized he was in deep trouble. When the Scorpio shot was not required, he began backing out of his Sierra One location the same way he came in because the vent he sighted through was too tiny for him to exit.

Sam still couldn't quite wrap his head around what happened. One minute he was inching backward, his foot caught on something, he kicked to get loose, continued backing up, then he was falling and couldn't stop himself. In his less than stellar condition, overheated, he failed to realize he must've dislodged a partition covering an old vertical shaft.

Not sure when his descent ended, having blacked out on the way down, he found himself with one arm pinned at his side with his Remi, and one above him. So tightly jammed, breathing became difficult and reaching his phone impossible. Unfortunately, the heat, stale air, and constriction kept him in a constant fuzzy state. He had no idea how much time passed, his arm with his watch the one alongside his body.

His first clear thought came in conjunction with his team leader barking at him for status. Ed was a hard, demanding man, who Sam respected and could deal with … many of his COs in the military would make Ed look like a pussy cat in comparison. Embarrassed to be stuck, he had only uttered the two words. But it cost him … his world dimmed afterward into grayness and anything anyone might be saying was lost on him.

* * *

**_En Route to Brighton_**

Spike peered at the blueprints as Lou drove. He contained his anger, at himself, to focus on the situation. "Ed, he went in from the access panel on the fifth floor. Though a snug fit, the shafts appear on the specs to be wide enough all the way to where he set up Sierra One. I don't see how he could get stuck."

Disgusted with herself for assuming Sam went with Boss since he had been patrolling with her today, Jules suggested, "Maybe the heat in the building changed something … perhaps he isn't so much as stuck, but perhaps incapacitated. We all were sweating bullets in there."

"The vents would have less fresh air too, be hotter than the rooms," Wordy interjected. He felt sick to his stomach that they left Sam. The rookie might be a little much to handle, always one for actions before words, but that didn't excuse any of them for forgetting about him.

Greg glanced at Ed in the driver's seat. His team leader's jaw was clenched tight, and the waves of self-recrimination surged off him. "Ed—"

"WHAT?" Ed snapped, letting the fury he held for himself burst forth.

"Sam will be alright." At least Greg hoped he was … if not, well, he didn't want to think of that possibility. Never in his career had he ever made such a grievous error with a fellow officer. Yes, he had been miffed at the way Holleran placed Sam on the team without his input, but nothing would absolve him of his disregard for Sam's safety.

"You don't' know that! Dammit, how the hell could I leave without him? I checked on everyone … made sure they had water before we left." Ed halted his remarks as the boulder in the pit of his stomach grew. "No that's wrong. I didn't check everyone … I forgot about Sam." Ed slammed his palm on the steering wheel.

"We … we forgot. This isn't just on you. He's been on our team for only a few weeks, and well, we …" Greg trailed off, his next words sounding hollow in his mind and nothing more than a weak excuse … _we aren't used to looking out for him yet._

Lou blew out a breath before interjecting, "Sam's been reticent ever since the drug dealer warrant call where the kid died. I'm not sure what words Ed and Sam shared by the ambulance, but whatever they were, Sam quit offering suggestions. He just came in and did what we told him. I think his quietness is a factor in today's events."

Ed wanted to hit something. This was on him. The safety of his team … WHICH INCLUDED SAM … was on him. Sam's words about not treating him like a member of the team wrapped around Ed's throat and constricted. He still couldn't believe he slammed Sam into the EMS rig that day … that he let Steve's words get under his skin, and second guess Sam's abilities. Sam sharing the reason he left the military walloped him, especially the rough undertone of intense emotion the ex-soldier tried to hide. The weight the younger man must bear for a friendly fire incident which killed his best friend must be enormous … and Ed kicked himself for turning a blind eye.

Pulling to a stop outside the building, Ed slammed the gear into park and hopped out. "Jules, you're the smallest. I want you and Wordy to go to the access panel and you to go in and locate where he is stuck. Lou, you're with me … let's get to the fifth-floor room and check the vent where he took up the sniper position. Spike, need you on the blueprints … once we locate him, we gotta figure out how to get him out the fastest way."

Greg headed straight for the EMS rig and the paramedic who waited for them. "One of my men is stuck in the ventilation system. He's been in there for at least five hours."

Brad arched a brow wondering how an SRU officer got stuck when the team just arrived. "Five? Likely going to be dealing with heat exhaustion. What floor?"

"Fifth. Though we are not sure exactly where he is. Once we find him, I'll inform you." Greg turned and trotted after Ed and the others as the medic began to pull out the gurney and supply boxes.

* * *

_**Brighton Complex – Fifth Floor Room**_

After procuring the only ladder available from the maintenance guy on the first-floor, Ed wondered if it would support his weight. Without another option, he climbed the wooden ladder which used a screwdriver through a hole to hold one of the legs in place as Lou stabilized it. Jules would probably cringe and lecture him about safety for using this decrepit thing.

Ed got the distinct impression this building might appear fresh and new, but it was only refurbished in a slapdash manner. Using his flashlight, he peered into the small vent, hoping to find Sam, but only viewed empty space. "SAM! SAM."

He waited for a response, straining his ears for the slightest sound. Getting none, Ed said, "Sam, if you can hear me and can't talk, at least knock."

As the ladder wobbled, Lou increased his grip, not wanting to add Ed to the potentially injured. "I think the heat got to him. He hasn't responded to any of our calls over the headset."

* * *

**_Brighton Complex – Air Ducts_**

Jules shimmied through the ducts, taking many turns along the lengthy path to the vent, and becoming drenched with sweat in short order. The heat was much worse inside the square sheet metal tube. "Guys, it's really hot in here … don't know how Sam managed for so long." A new fear popped in her head. _God, please don't let him be dead._

Making the final turn, Jules peered down the empty stretch of duct, dimly lit by Ed's flashlight from the vent about three hundred feet from her position. "Not possible. He's not here."

"Jules, come forward … there is something askew about a hundred feet from me. I can't tell what it is," Ed relayed.

Crawling forward as fast as possible, her sweaty hands slipping on the slick metal, she wished she wore her gloves. Getting closer, the penlight clenched in her teeth glinted off metal. She removed it and said, "Looks like a panel of some sort." Jules' eyes widened as she stopped, peered down a vertical shaft, and spotted the top of their blond-haired rookie. "FOUND HIM. Spike, there's a shaft here … about one hundred feet from the room's vent. It runs vertical, not horizontal."

She reached across the opening to get a better view and her fingers landed on the edge. "Sam, are you okay?" She waited for a beat for any sound. Not seeing any movement, she moved her hand back and it came away sticky. "He isn't responsive and appears to be wedged in … only his head, shoulders, and one arm are visible. I don't recall this on the schematics. Spike, he's too far down for me to reach. Maybe about eighteen to twenty feet. No other ductwork appears to be connected from what I can see."

* * *

_**Outside Brighton Complex**_

Spike's laptop sat open on the hood of the SUV as he rescanned the blueprints submitted for the remodeling. "Nothing on these prints. Gotta see if I can find the original plans."

He pulled out his cell phone and called his friend who worked at the planning commission since he couldn't find any other documents online. "Hey, Wade, me Spike. I need a favor. My teammate is trapped in the ventilation system at Brighton Complex. He's in a duct I can't find on the plans. Can you go to the archives and check if there are originals? Oh, and hurry … he's been stuck for a long time, and it is critical we get him out fast."

His buddy agreed, and as Spike waited on hold, he said, "Winnie, we're probably gonna need a fire rescue crew. At twenty or so feet, that will put Sam somewhere between the third and fourth floor."

"Copy," Winnie replied as she monitored their communications. She called the direct line of the fire department dispatch.

When Boss appeared next to him, Spike requested, "Can you grab the thermal imager from the back? Might need it to locate exactly where Sam is."

"On it." Greg hustled to the rear of the SUV to obtain the device.

Listening to Wade when he came back on the line, Spike nodded. "Snap a photo and send it to me. Thanks." He hung up and clenched his hand. "Whoever filed the updated blueprints failed to record the vertical ductwork from when the building was originally built back in the 1940s. Seems like they didn't strip them out, only sealed them off. Heading to the third floor. Meet me there."

As Spike and Greg hurried inside, Jules said, "I'm going to stay here in case he wakes."

"No. I want you out of there," Greg responded. "One down with heat exhaustion is enough."

With reluctance in her tone, Jules replied, "Copy," and began to back out. Her fingers hit something sticky again and she moved the light to check. She sucked in a breath and searched the area closer when she spotted the dark crimson mixed with gooey glue on her hand. "Guys, Sam's bleeding. There is a sharp edge on the opposite side … didn't see it at first. There's a trail of blood down the shaft too, enough that it's got to be a significant cut."

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_**AN:**_ As promised a quick chapter.

_**AN2: **_**I wanted to play with and explore the characters a bit differently than in the BOL series so this isn't connected to my previous stories.** But it will still have lots of Sam whump ... just a different backstory for him and some changes in his interactions with the team.


	3. Rescue and Waiting

**Rescue and Waiting**

* * *

_**Brighton Complex**_

"GOT HIM!" Spike held the thermal imager, his eyes widening as he realized just where Sam was located.

Ed trotted over. "Where?"

"Up there … halfway between the third and fourth floors, behind the new bricks." Spike swallowed as he met Greg's gaze. "If they hadn't smashed the vent at this point to fit behind this wall, Sam would've fallen to the ground floor."

"Small favor," Lou said as he moved a desk over to the wall. "Where's the fire crew? We're gonna need a sledgehammer to knock down these bricks."

"ETA five minutes," Winnie called over the headset.

"Not waiting that long," Ed growled as he began searching for anything heavy he could use ... coming up empty, finding only staplers, monitors, pencils, chairs … nothing which would break through.

Wordy ran in with Jules trailing him a few minutes later wearing a grin. "Decided this might come in handy." He jumped up on the desk with the rammer he typically used to bust down doors. Putting all his effort into his swings, Wordy aimed for below where Spike indicated Sam's body was wedged … he didn't want to cause further injury.

Ed joined Wordy when the entry specialist began dripping with sweat. The building was just as hot now as it had been when they were here an hour ago. They took turns ramming the brick wall, and pieces began crumbling.

"STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING THIS INSTANT! YOU ARE RUINING MY WALL!" Mr. Frankston yelled as he entered the room.

Greg moved to intervene with the building's manager, firmly gripping his arm and maneuvering him out to the hallway. "My officer is trapped. Perhaps you should go to your office and prepare for the planning commission's inquiry as to why the vertical ductwork was left off your blueprints."

"THE CITY MUST PAY—"

"Please lower your voice. What the city will and won't do isn't up to me. Saving the life of a respected SRU constable is my paramount concern … as it should be yours too. A wrongful death suit filed by his family would likely be more costly than a brick wall." Greg eyed the flustered man as he reeled and stepped back a few feet. As the fire rescue crew stepped off the elevator carrying their equipment, Greg called out, "Over here. This way."

Team One stood back as the firemen finished knocking down the wall, ripping the plaster wallboard out, sending dust in all directions. One man started up a handheld circular saw to cut the vent below Sam's position. Then another used metal snips to cut open the metal near Sam. The blood which ran out when they reached thigh level caused them to blanch.

The paramedic moved in to assess the wound, applying a pressure dressing, then stepped back to allow the rescue men to finish extracting his patient. The team desired to help, hated standing by, but just as they would want other first responders to allow them to do what they were trained for without interference, they figured the fire crew and medics felt the same way. And besides … Sam deserved the care of people trained in rescue.

Once he was strapped to a backboard and lowered onto the gurney, a flurry of medical terms they didn't comprehend filled the air. What they did understand was his temperature was too high … as evidenced by the medics efficiently removing his tactical gear, and cutting off his clothing before placing cold packs on his groin, in both armpits, and the back of his neck.

Captain McKay approached them with Sam's gear. "Sergeant Parker, I believe you will want custody of these."

Greg nodded as Ed took the vest, handgun, and Remi. "What hospital will he be transported to?"

"Toronto General, I suspect. It is the closest trauma center."

"Thank you for getting Sam out for us."

McKay took off his helmet and ran a hand over his sweaty brow. "How long was he trapped?"

Guilt gnawed at Greg. "Trapped about an hour … but he was in the vents for a little over five."

"You're damned lucky he is even alive. How the hell he lasted that long we may never know." McKay nodded to the rest and rejoined his men to gather their tools, as the paramedics began pushing Sam out the door.

Brad turned back and asked, "Who can provide us emergency contact details?"

"That would be me," Greg said as he moved forward. He pivoted back to his team. "I'll call once I know anything. We're off shift as of now. Holleran will want a full inquiry. I suggest you each write out your statement before heading home." Jogging after the gurney, Greg said over the comms, "Winnie, send me an electronic version of Sam's personnel file."

Jules dropped onto a chair, swiping aside the wet bangs plastered to her forehead. "We really screwed up."

"Ya think?" Spike retorted. His face awash in guilt, Spike turned to Ed. "Think Sam will ever forgive us?"

"Me … this is on me. I'm team leader." Ed clenched his fists as the image of a pale, dry, and bloody Braddock filled his mind.

"Not only you. We are a team. We all own a part of this." Wordy leaned on a desk as his eyes roved over the area Sam had been trapped in. Anger welled, and he strode over, picked up the rammer, and slammed the wall several times, bringing down more bricks.

Jules stared at her hands in her lap, covered with glue and dried blood. Sam's blood. "This is my fault. Sam was my partner today. He is the rookie. My job to cover my partner's six. I failed."

Lou's hand landed on Jules' shoulder, and he squeezed. "We share the locker room with him … you don't. One of us guys should've realized when he wasn't there."

Realizing he must take charge, as much as they all wanted to wallow in self-recrimination, Ed clapped his hand once, and strode over to Wordy, stilling his assault on the defenseless wall. "Time to go. You heard Boss. We go back, write out our statements, then we all head to the hospital. We can figure out how to make this up to him as a team … six heads are better than one."

Spike sighed and spoke softly, "Seven … teams are seven."

Jules stood and stomped out, fighting the urge to let tears fall as the number seven swirled in her head. After Rollie left, her mind thought of the team as six … not seven. She couldn't believe she had become so calloused to disregard a teammate so completely … even if he kept trying to hit on her … starting from the first time she set eyes on Braddock.

At a slower pace, the remaining members of Team One filed out. Wordy still had not spent his anger, so he chose to take the stairs, following Jules. Shel would be so disappointed in him when he told her what happened. He prided himself on being kind to the underdog, but in this case, he failed miserably, and he couldn't figure out why.

Ed followed Wordy's lead but for a different reason … being confined in the square box of the lift would be too claustrophobic and too close to what Sam must've experienced in the ducts. He needed to clear his mind if he was going to fix his screw up.

Riding down in the elevator with only Lou, Spike turned to his best friend, his face beseeching, "I laughed at him. From day one, I treated Sam like he was a joke. When Ed sent Sam on the coffee run at the hospital, I chuckled. Why? That isn't me. Why did I treat him different?"

"Don't have an answer for you. I'm asking myself the same question. Perhaps it is how he was placed … tops down … but if he weren't qualified, Holleran never would've put him on Team One."

Spike leaned on the rail. "Sam never answered why he left the military. Why would a hot-shot JTF2 soldier join an SRU team?"

"Again … no answer. And truthfully, it is none of our business." Lou watched the number two button light, the heat stifling. "I'm more interested in how the heck he survived five-plus hours in this heat."

Spike released a loud vocal breath. "Two tours in Afghanistan might've conditioned him to the heat."

"Perhaps."

The doors opened, and waiting for them were Jules, Wordy, and Ed. Words were not needed to convey that the three would not leave until they knew every last member would make it out … and Spike and Lou didn't somehow, someway end up stuck in the damned elevator. They marched out as five-sevenths of a team, each one intent on writing their report as fast as humanly possible so they could go to the hospital.

* * *

**_Toronto General – Waiting Room_**

Greg sat with his elbows on his thighs, head in his palms. His call to Commander Holleran an hour and a half ago had been painful … admitting his abject failure. He wasn't certain how to take the fact Holleran had not yelled … only quietly informed him he would contact Sam's family and Team One was off rotation until further notice. By all rights, Holleran should file a formal reprimand and Greg would accept a demotion and even being relieved of his shield without a single rebuttal if that is what Holleran chose to do.

A young man was now in the emergency room, fighting for his life because he utterly failed him. During the ride over, Greg did catch an understand some of the medical jargon. Heat stroke. Possible brain damage. Laceration of the right thigh. Excessive blood loss. Dehydration. Potential compression trauma to the left hand. His rookie was left-handed, and if the damage was permanent, Sam's career might be over.

He racked his brain and came up blank with a solid reason why he forgot Sam. Something must be figured out so no SRU team would ever experience this type of failure again. Sam had been with them for only three weeks … eleven, twelve-hour shifts … he didn't deserve to be forgotten. In fact, they all should've been more vigilant as they would've been with any other rookie.

Instead, they treated him shabbily. In his time with SRU, Sam received only five hours of team training, though he only struggled with negotiation. Not unexpected given his military background. His first hot call … an almost disastrous result when Sam sent the heart up. Not Sam's fault. Ed should've never sent him for coffee when he became irritated by Sam's full-bore tactical suggestions. Also, not surprising since Sam was a JTF2 sniper.

One tragic warrant call, when an innocent teen was killed by the drug dealer … also not Sam's fault, though Ed took his anger and frustration out on Sam. Yeah, he was privy to what Sam shared. Heartbreaking, but he never took the time to talk to Sam about being the one to shoot his best friend. Like Ed, he turned a blind eye when he should've probed to understand Sam's state of mind … to get to know him, and maybe to help ease his pain and the transition.

The only things Greg knew for certain about Sam were, he was one hell of a sniper, he was a terrible swimmer, and he wouldn't hesitate to take a Scorpio shot, even if it made him complicit in suicide by cop. In retrospect, George was determined to get the money for his ailing wife, and would've fired at him to ensure they killed him … so Sam saved his life that day and he never even thanked him. So wrapped up in his own mind about where he lost connection with George, he didn't bother to find out if Ed briefed Sam on the SUI process, or followed up with Sam after the lethal to ensure he was handling things okay.

"Braddock. Family of Braddock."

Greg lifted his head and spied a man wearing scrubs. He stood and went to where he waited. "I'm Sergeant Parker. Constable Braddock is a member of my team. His family isn't here …" Greg trailed off, Holleran hadn't called to inform him if Sam's parents were coming. He doubted they lived in Toronto because surely if they did, they would be here by now. _Perhaps Sam doesn't have family, wait, no, Holleran said he would contact them_.

Dr. Sawyer nodded. "I can tell you he is stable. We lowered his temperature, but he has not regained consciousness yet, so we are unable to assess his condition fully. The laceration to his thigh is not the only one, but it is the only significant one. I assume his vest prevented cuts to his torso, but his right arm sustained superficial cuts."

Greg interrupted. "The gash on his leg … how bad is it?"

"Deep. Required internal and external sutures. Until he wakes, we won't be able to tell if he sustained any nerve damage. Likewise, with his left hand. I'm told it was wedged in tight and the lack of circulation might pose an issue, but time will tell. The blood loss and dehydration we corrected … he is still receiving the transfusion and fluids. We will be moving him up to the fifth floor shortly. The nurses will provide you the room number once assigned. Are there any other questions I can answer at this time?"

"Will he be allowed visitors?"

"Yes, but it is wise to keep the number down. When he wakes, if he wakes—"

"Wait … if?" A knot the size of a basketball formed in the pit of Greg's stomach.

"Prolonged exposure to high temperatures and a core body temperature of one hundred four or above can lead to coma and even death. At this time, I am not classifying his unconscious state as a coma. His body underwent excessive stress and needs time to recover. We will be monitoring him closely and providing your officer with the best care possible."

"Thank you, Doctor." Greg remained where he stood as the doors to the ER treatment area opened and closed after the doctor exited. Ten minutes later, the rest of his team found him still there, staring blankly at the wall.

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* * *

**AN:** Now I haven't decided whether Sam's dad is going to be nice or mean ... part of me wants to explore a world where Sam is on the outs with his dad and the team steps in to defend him. My muse is noodling on various options for the next chapter. Weigh in if you want me to go one direction or another.


	4. A Father's Fury and Love

**A Father's Fury and Love**

* * *

_**Toronto General – Cafe**_

Team One sat around a table, each silent as they attempted to eat the snack they purchased, but none hungry enough to actually make more than a small dent in their choices. Ed had taken over, ushering them all to the café upon finding Greg lost in thought in the waiting room. They all wanted to know what the doctor said, but no one wanted to push Boss, so waited until he came out of his stupor.

Lifting his soda, Greg took a long drink of the cold beverage, snagging a piece of ice and allowing it to melt in his mouth. He scanned his team and released a sigh. "His injuries might end his career before he truly began."

"What exactly are we dealing with?" Ed asked.

"Well, if he wakes—"

"IF?" Spike's voice came out embarrassingly high-pitched and loud.

"Yes, if. Dr. Sawyer isn't calling Sam's state a coma … yet, but he has not woken up and extreme heat for an extended time can cause brain damage. Won't be able to discern that until he wakes, and also if he suffered nerve damage to his right leg and left hand."

"What about his hand … didn't see any cuts on it?" Wordy's gut churned, and he pushed away the rest of his sandwich which now felt like leaden blocks in his stomach.

"It was trapped by his body and the Remi … something they call a compression injury." Greg took another sip, chewed another ice chip, and lowered his gaze to the table. "Holleran has taken us off rotation until further notice. I can't tell you what will happen, but I take full responsibility."

"We're a team … this is on all us," Lou said as he fiddled with his cup.

"Are we allowed to visit him? Is his family here?" Jules pushed down her emotions, wanting the facts … willing to accept whatever discipline was meted out to her. Sam had been her partner today … and her written statement reflected her culpability.

"Yes. They were taking him up to the fifth floor. Didn't have a number yet though."

Ed snorted. "Wish it was any other floor."

Greg stood. "Not sure about family, Holleran said he would contact them. Let's go. We need to be there when he wakes to show him our support … to apologize for our actions."

The others rose, grabbing their half-eaten items and dumping them in the trash on the way to the elevators.

* * *

_**Toronto General – Fifth Floor Hallway**_

After stopping at the nurses' station to inquire about Sam's room number, five men and one woman solemnly made their way down the hall. They came to the corner leading to room five thirteen, a private room on the east side of the building. Ed and Greg leading the way, slowed when they spotted two armed soldiers guarding Sam's doorway, while Commander Holleran, a doctor, and another man in uniform gathered in the middle of the hallway talking.

Spike almost ran into the back of Ed when he didn't notice the slower pace. "Hey, come on … no time to drag your feet."

Lou's hand went to Spike's arm, pulling him back. "Holleran … and … others."

With some trepidation, Greg moved forward, recognizing Dr. Sawyer as he came to a halt a few steps from the three men. "Commander, Doctor, is Sam alright?"

Norman Holleran turned to find Team One gathered. He wanted to avoid this … he should've ordered them to stay away, but then he had not expected his old friend to show up so fast.

"Sergeant Parker, I was just informing Sam's father of his condition. No changes since we last spoke," Dr. Sawyer said. He turned his gaze to his patient's dad. "Sir, if you will excuse me now. I will be back to check on Sam in a couple of hours, and the nurses will alert me if any issues arise. Your son will be well taken care of … you have my word."

"Thank you, Sawyer." Warren Braddock shook the doctor's hand. He pivoted, and his expression morphed from concerned father with a tinge of gratitude for the medical staff to full-on fury as he peered at Sergeant Parker.

Norm could feel the anger rolling off Warren in waves. Ever the professional, he stated, "Warren, let me introduce you to Team One. Sergeant Greg Parker, Team Lead Ed Lane, Kevin Wordsworth, Lewis Young, Mike Scarlatti, and Jules Callaghan. Team, this is Sam's father, General Warren Braddock."

"Sam's dad is a general," Spike whispered as his eyes widened.

Jules' profiling skills popped forward, though in truth anyone with half-a-brain could tell they were viewing one very pissed off man. She assumed Holleran explained the situation, and General Braddock had just cause to be angry.

Stepping up as the rest of his team gaped at the intro, Greg said, "Sir, I wish to offer my sincerest apology—"

Warren interrupted, his voice hard and authoritative, yet he didn't yell, "You can keep your apology. You left my son … my only son … to die. You forgot him and went on your merry way without a single thought for his well-being. No soldier would ever be so careless with a teammate's life.

"Samuel served two nine-month tours in the hottest, most unforgiving environment, mission after dangerous mission in hostile territory with jihadists lurking in every shadow waiting to kill him. After eighteen months of honorable service in a Kandahar, he came home without a scratch … no holes in his body, no scars, a whole and hale young man.

"He comes to Toronto and joins the police, and within the span of three weeks, he is fighting for his life not due to some crazed criminal, but from the neglect of the very people who should be watching his six. Samuel might die, remain in a coma, and if he wakes, he might have brain damage, lose the use of his leg, and or his hand. Nothing you can say, nothing you can offer will ever … EVER … make up for your deeds today."

Waving a hand towards the soldiers, Warren said, "These men are here to protect my boy from the likes of you. They have been ordered to prevent you from entering his room. You will leave this hospital and not return. My wife is on her way, and I will not have Audrey subjected to you."

"But we want to see how he's doi…" Spike trailed off as the icy, blue eyes so like Sam's, pinned him. He gulped as fear rose unbidden. This was a man you didn't challenge unless you wanted to forfeit your life.

His gaze moving to each of the six before him, Warren allowed his 'badass' persona full reign. "By rights, I should have you all brought up on charges of criminal neglect and endangerment of an officer. Defy my wishes, and I may pursue that route. And so you are aware … should my boy die or be permanently impaired, I will seek justice to the fullest extent of the law against all parties responsible."

Warren, having said his peace, pivoted and strode into Sam's room without glancing backward, expecting as always, his commands to be followed without question.

Holleran sighed. "I suggest you leave. Warren is not a man who makes idle threats. I assume your written statements have been completed."

Everyone except Greg nodded, still in awe of the set down delivered from Sam's father.

Greg raked a hand over his face. "You'll have mine within the hour, sir."

Norm nodded and surveyed the SRU officers with disappointment expressed in his eyes. "Go home. Get some rest. Tomorrow will be soon enough to begin sorting this out."

"Sir?"

"Yes?" Norm's gaze landed on Wordy.

"Can you please inform us if Sam's condition changes?"

"If the general allows … it is not my decision to make."

"Understood." Wordy turned and started walking to the elevator with a heavy heart. He comprehended the general's position. As a dad himself, he would want to lash out at those who were to blame for his child being hurt … and possibly dying.

As Jules left, she headed for the stairwell, needing to hide the tears she couldn't hold back any longer. The general spoke the truth … and it hurt to realize how careless and callous she had been towards Sam. He survived a year and a half in Afghanistan … but would he survive now?

Lou and Spike both sighed, turned, and followed Wordy. Their shoulders slumped in mirror images. The weight of their actions … lack thereof … heavy on their backs. Guilt which might never go away … especially if the blond rookie died.

"Commander … I'm the one to be held responsible. As Team Leader, it is my job to ensure—"

"Eddie, stop. Now isn't the time. And this falls on me as Sergeant." Greg pivoted, tugging on Ed's sleeve to make him leave. The desire to drown in the bottom of a whiskey bottle strong as he strode away, but he must write his report and review the others' statements too.

Greg glanced up at Ed whose face had gone rock solid. "I need you to check on everyone tonight. Let them know I expect them at the barn by eight. We need to debrief … and figure out why we messed up so badly, so we can prevent this from happening to anyone else."

Norman watched until they disappeared around the corner. Only then did he allow his body to slump against the wall. T_he failure begins with me. I should've talked to Greg and not just sprung Sam on them. I failed not only Sam and every member of Team One, but my long-time friends Warren and Audrey too. They trusted me with their son … trusted me to create an environment where he could heal … and I didn't. _

* * *

_**Toronto General – Room 513**_

Warren took halting steps towards the bed. Sammy appeared to be only sleeping … peacefully … unlike the last time he saw him. The nightmares terrorized Sam something fierce after the death of Benjamin Matte. He believed, at the time, Sam might not survive killing Ben though he had been cleared of any blame.

What stuck in Warren's craw at the moment was the similarity of Matte's death to Sam's situation. A series of errors, assumptions, and miscommunication caused the Master Corporal's demise. Sam and Ben, best buddies ever since high school, were due to leave the next day, having completed their second tour. But instead, they volunteered for the mission when two of Clarkson's men had been injured in the previous op.

Sergeant Clarkson, new to commanding a unit, had been careless. He didn't do a final headcount to ensure all seven of his men cleared out of the target zone before he gave the all clear to Sam. Assumptions could be deadly … and they were for Ben Matte.

Pushing those thoughts away, his fatherly concern reasserted itself and Warren moved to Sam's bedside. His eyes roved over his son's body, noting the IVs. One provided him fluid and antibiotics, and the second still finishing the blood transfusion. He wore a lightweight gown and his right arm sported multiple bandages. His left hand rested on a pillow. _God, I hope he doesn't lose the use of his hand. It will crush him not to be able to fire._ Warren sucked in a breath and exhaled gradually. "If that happens, we'll work together to develop your ability with the right."

His eyes moved to the white, thin blanket covering the lower half. The bulk of the dressing on his right thigh visible due to the slight lump. "I'm sorry, Samuel. I thought I was helping by facilitating your exit of CAF and entry into SRU. I always want the best for you. I understood you needed a break ... Ben's death was as hard on you as Sara's … maybe more so."

Returning his gaze to Sam's face, the stubble on his jaw made Warren think of the day Sammy left home to come to Toronto. One of the few times he and Sam didn't get into an argument while in the same location. Their relationship on a good day was complicated … had been from early on.

Samuel remained as headstrong as him but typically ended up toeing the line when push came to shove. Their 'golden boy' as Audrey liked to call their son, grew into an honorable man … courteous, honest, intelligent, handsome like his old man, and one 'badass' soldier in his own right.

His boy didn't deserve to be lying here because the so-called best SRU team forgot about him. Warren now wished he had not facilitated Samuel's early release from the military, although, at the time, Norman's suggestion had seemed like a suitable interim solution to Sam's mental state. His son needed a change, and Samuel's sniper skills and his tactical knowledge, coupled with his prior service with the police department, enabled his placement on the elite team with little trouble.

Warren still couldn't believe Samuel's brief stint of defiance when he was eighteen, after an all-out argument on attending the Royal Canadian Military College, resulted in Sam effectively running away from home and joining the Toronto police. If he hadn't, this option would've been closed to him, and he wouldn't be lying unconscious in this bed right now.

He whole-heartedly wished Ben had lived. Samuel would still be where he belonged. Master Corporal Matte had been a good influence on Sammy and kept him out of trouble more than once. He owed Ben for helping his son come to his senses, partially. Ben talked Sam into enlisting in the Army with him a year later. Sam quit the police department and although they went the enlisted route, as the two boys planned all through high school and eschewed becoming officers, at least Samuel was where he made a real difference.

Warren lay his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Son, if you can hear me … I'm here. Your mom is on the way. She is driving down from Ottawa with your aunt. It would be a comfort for her if you were awake when she arrives. You know how she worries."

Unable to resist showing the deep love he held for his boy, Warren leaned down and kissed his forehead. The splash of liquid on Sam's cheek informed Warren he was crying. "My son. My precious boy. Burying one child is more than enough. I don't think my heart can take saying goodbye to you too. So you fight with everything you have … you are a Braddock, and we don't give up ground without a battle."

Warren allowed his tears to fall silently as he remained close to his son, stroking his hair, cheek, arm, and hand … wishing Samuel to open his eyes and be alright.

.

* * *

**AN:** Oooo two chapters in less than 24 hours ...

So, Daddy Braddock and Sammy have issues ... will come in handy for some tense/angsty moments, but ultimately he loves his son.

Hope you enjoyed a bit of Sam's backstory and how I handled the Matt/Ben continuity issue from the show. I kept the little sister's name Sara because I still like that name.

I know Sam's been absent as things happen around him, but next chapter he gets to wake up ... should be fun or so my evil muse is telling me.


	5. Protective Mama Bear

**Protective Mama Bear**

* * *

**_Three Days Later – Toronto General – Room 513_**

Audrey Braddock gently ran the damp cloth over her son's face. In the last few days, she had not left her boy's side, regardless of Warren's urging she go to the hotel to sleep. She couldn't bring herself to leave. She set the cloth down and resumed her seat next to his bed and lightly clasped his right hand.

"Your dad had to go back to Ottawa today. He was not a happy camper when he had to take the guards with him. Said you needed the protection more than him. He hopes to return in two days, but you recall how busy his schedule is, so he might need to adjust his timeline. But rest assured, he will return and he loves you. He would be here now if he could, but duty called.

"Natalie would also be here, but, well, you know Nat too … always flighty. Wish that girl would use the sense God gave her. I don't like her latest choice in boyfriend. She has the worst taste in men. I foresee trouble with him, something shifty in his eyes. Someday I hope she settles down with a good man after she quits rebelling against your father's strictness.

"He truly does love both of you so much … he just, well, Warren is a military man through and through. And after we lost Sara, he hurt so deeply, it ripped his heart to shreds because there was absolutely nothing he could do to save her and it made him physically sick knowing you witnessed her death. He overreacted and became overly strict because he couldn't bear the thought of losing either you or Nat. He wanted to keep you both safe from harm.

"When we raced to the accident scene and found you clinging to Sara's sandals and the sheet over our precious baby girl, both our hearts shattered. I wish we had dealt with her death better. Burying ourselves in work to avoid the pain didn't accomplish anything except leaving you and Nat to wonder where your parents went and why it appeared we forgot about Sara.

"We didn't, never would, and that is one reason I insisted on the counseling sessions for you after Ben's death. Pushing down those feelings of grief only resulted in more pain and a heap of guilt. If I could go back and do things differently, I would. I will never allow you to face something so traumatic alone again."

Audrey reached for her iced tea and took a sip. Her throat kept drying out, but that was because she talked non-stop … hoping Sam could hear her and know he was not alone. She leaned back and scanned the stark room again, glad Warren arranged a private room for Sammy and told those horrible teammates they were not welcome.

Her hackles raising as she recalled the incident, she said, "When you wake, I am taking you home. It makes me so angry they forgot you. How could anyone forget my golden boy? They are despicable. Even the men in your unit didn't treat you as cruelly after Ben died as they have.

"Yes, I'm aware there are some in your unit who believed you were responsible. That Steve guy … oh, I didn't like him one bit. So arrogant telling everyone they needed to watch their backs around you. It was not your fault. If anyone is to blame it is Sergeant Clarkson since he gave you the all clear. I'm glad he was discharged. He wasn't fit to lead."

She fell silent again, staring at the five-day growth of stubble. "I should ask the nurse for a razor and shave you, but to be honest, I like this look on you. Kinda rustic. Makes you appear older than your twenty-five years. Oh, boy, you are still so young. You look like your dad at that age. I fell head over heels for the blond, blue-eyed officer in his dress uniform. I sure hope you find a lovely lady."

Audrey realized she was rambling now; having said everything she possibly could think of … many things more than once. Reaching for the remote, she smiled. "How about I turn on the TV, perhaps a hockey game is on … wait, hockey doesn't start for a while. Perhaps a movie. Something you missed while in Kandahar."

She halted her babbling when blond lashes fluttered up, and she spied a sliver of blue orbs. She dropped the remote, pressed the call button, and stood, moving closer. "Sammy. Sammy. It's Mom. Honey, can you hear me?"

Sam's world slowly materialized but remained fuzzy as he attempted to orient himself. He recognized his mother, heard her speaking, but he couldn't comprehend why she was here or where he was at. Before he could form any words, an unfamiliar person, a nurse by her uniform, appeared at his bedside, and began talking to him. He had trouble following her questions.

His throat parched, he forced out a gravelly answer to her first query, "Sam Braddock."

"Okay, Sam. Do you know what day it is?"

His head throbbed, and he squinted his eyes against the light.

"He's in pain," Audrey said.

"Yes, we'll give him something for that in a minute or two. Sam, can you tell me the date?"

"March … um … something … not sure." The slight gasp from his mother made him turn to her. "Mom?"

Audrey's hand shook as she rested it on Sam's shoulder. "It's going to be okay, honey."

"Mrs. Braddock, I'm going to page the doctor. You can give him small sips of water. I'll be back in a few moments." The nurse hurried from the room.

Sam focused on his mom. "Not March?"

"No."

"When? What happened? Why am I in a hospital?" The pain in his leg registered as Sam shifted in bed, and his gaze moved to his lower body as a straw slipped between his lips. He drew up a mouthful of tepid water, which slaked his thirst and wetted his throat.

"Let's allow Dr. Sawyer to examine you first. Then I'll explain." Audrey was unsure whether she should inform Sam or not of the actual date. It saddened her Sam believed it to be March … when he arrived home from Kandahar, a complete and utter shell of the son she sent to the war-torn region almost ten months earlier.

The next month or so of inquiries into the shooting only further strained him, and Sam experienced such horrible night terrors, waking drenched in sweat and screaming every night. With tender care, she nursed him to health, and outwardly he stabilized, but she wasn't so naïve as to believe he fully accepted what occurred was not his fault … he still blamed himself for Ben's death.

After many long nights of discussion with Warren and a conversation with Norman, they presented Sam the option of leaving the service and joining the SRU. She hoped the change would help her son's wounded soul, but he only met with denigration and outright negligence … not the support Norm indicated he would receive from his best team.

Audrey wondered if perhaps Sam's memory lapse would erase the belittlement he endured at the hands of Team One. Perhaps the surfacing of a protection mechanism. She would need to speak with the doctor and contact the psychologist Sammy worked with when he came home from Afghanistan. Dr. Ferguson would surely agree to come to Toronto.

Sam sipped the water, allowing his eyes to close. If his mom didn't want to tell him, he figured something terrible must've happened, but he let his body to relax, knowing she would be by his side no matter. He never questioned her love and fierce protection of him.

* * *

_**Toronto General – Hallway**_

Ed waited down the hall out of view. Every day he came, and each day, he bided his time. When the guards left with the general earlier today, he continued to hold back, debating with himself if he should defy the man's wishes and pop in to find out how Sam fared. Holleran put Team One on administrative leave, and they still didn't know what the outcome would be, partly because their commander wanted to hold off for several days on the hope Sam would wake and he could speak with him to document his side.

The days dragged on, and although they debriefed and determined a serious lack of care on their part, coupled with assumptions and Sam's quietness in the last few shifts, all contributed to the failure. However, nothing assuaged Ed's sense of guilt. As team leader, he failed to ensure the safety of every member of his team. He couldn't excuse his behavior, nor would he. All he could do was to try to right the wrongs and strive never to make the same mistake again.

He hoped to find Sam alone and awake … but one thing he gleaned from skulking in the shadows is Sam remained unresponsive. That is until the nurse hurried into and out of his room. He overheard her at the nurses' station telling the other nurse she needed to page Dr. Sawyer because Mr. Braddock had awakened.

Ed couldn't stop his feet if he were conscious of them moving under their own volition. He arrived at the door in time to overhear a motherly voice say, "… examine you first. Then I'll explain."

Pushing open the door, Ed took three steps in, when two sets of blue eyes, one male, one female landed on him. Sam's expression was one of pain and inquiry, the other filled with icy fire.

"Get out! You are not allowed in my son's room. Begone!" Audrey swiftly moved towards Mr. Lane, full mama bear claws out, protecting her cub. "If you don't leave this instant, I'm calling security then my husband followed by your commander."

Ed back peddled rapidly as he said, "I only wanted—"

"I don't care what _you_ want. I said, _OUT!_" Audrey tapped her finger on Lane's chest as she continued forward forcing him to step backward and out of Sam's room. "You've already done enough damage. You will _NOT_ enter this room again, or I'll have you arrested and thrown in the brig."

Exiting the room, Ed stopped in the middle of the hall and stared at the door which shut in his face. He blew out a breath, stunned by the ferocity of Sam's mother. He didn't doubt had she been armed he would've been facing an assault rifle. Though in truth, the woman didn't need one to be an effective protector. Ed pivoted and strode away, realizing that making things right with Sam would be a lot harder than he ever imagined.

* * *

_**Toronto General – Room 513**_

"Mom, who was that, and why did you go off on him?" Sam's perplexed expression followed her back across the room after his door closed. The man seemed somewhat familiar.

"Never mind him. Just someone who isn't welcome." Audrey took several breaths to calm her inner beast … one who came out when anyone threatened her children … didn't matter if they were adults now. A mother's love and desire to protect never dwindled, even when said child was a well-trained soldier capable of defending himself against an untold number of threats. However, at the moment, Sammy was injured and confused, so although he could typically disarm a knife-wielding terrorist with little effort, he needed her now.

"Do I know him? Is he part of the inquiry into Ben's death?" Sam thought that might be the case with the man's carriage … very military and authoritative … like many COs he served under.

Audrey picked up the water cup again. "Here, take another sip."

Complying, recognizing his mom wouldn't be supplying any details, she could make it through SERE training with as tight-lipped as she could be at times. She would make a great spy … outward appearance as a sweet mother, but with a whip-smart intellect and a backbone of steel. She was the only person he had ever seen his father cow-tow to … a force to be reckoned with.

The room's door opened again, and Sam witnesses as his mom's countenance changed from gentle love, to a bearcat, back to controlled ease as the nurse and a man wearing a stethoscope around his neck entered.

"Sam, it is good to see you awake. I'm Dr. Sawyer, and you've been under my care. This," he motioned to the woman beside him, "is Reba, your day nurse. Now, the first order of business, what is your pain level on a scale of one to ten, ten being worst?"

"Three or four … sore but bearable. Head and leg are throbbing."

The doctor nodded. "Okay, let's get some pain meds on board." He turned and gave his order to Reba, who promptly exited to obtain the medication.

"Where am I, and what happened?" Sam glanced between Mom and Sawyer.

"What is the last thing you recall?" Sawyer asked.

"Um … things are a little fuzzy. Dinner at my parent's house … going upstairs afterward." He glanced at his leg and his swollen left hand which lay on a pillow. "Did I fall down the stairs?"

"You fell, but not down stairs. We are going to take this slow. It is better if your mind retrieves your memories on its own. So, I'm sure this will be frustrating for you, but I will only disclose a few things you must know. It is July, not March. You are in Toronto General Hospital and have been unconscious for three days due to heat stroke.

"As for your injuries, you suffered a deep laceration on your right thigh, which will need time to heal and physical therapy due to the sutured muscles. In a moment, I want to check for possible nerve impairment, but I want the painkillers to take effect first. Your right arm has multiple minor scratches.

"Your left hand was compressed for about an hour, and I'll be checking for nerve damage too. The headache you're experiencing is likely due to the prolonged exposure to excessive heat and dehydration. It should lessen over the next few days."

Sam half-listened, stuck on the fact it was four months later than he thought and he was in Toronto. He leaned his head back on the pillow and breathed out, "What the hell happened to four friggin months?"

Caressing her son's head, Audrey said, "Don't worry about that now, Sammy. I'm here, and your dad will be back as soon as he can. We'll help you through this, just as we did Ben's death. I'm staying by your side … there is no place I would rather be."

Turning his gaze on his mother, leaning into her hand, needing her comfort and reassurance, Sam nodded. "Okay, Mom."

.

* * *

**AN**: The second section in this chapter is inspired by **tosh-lane** who wanted Ed to enter Sam's room and be confronted by an assault rifle. I think Mama Bear Braddock is more deadly.

To the guest who wanted to know if this was part of BOL series … the answer is no, this is a completely different backstory created for Sam ... hence the different names for his parents and the best friend's name.


	6. Checkmate and Holleran's Briefing

**Checkmate and Holleran's Briefing**

* * *

_**Toronto General – Room 513**_

Late in the afternoon, more like early evening, Sam woke from an incessant throbbing pain. Blindly, his hand searched for the call button, needing relief. He concentrated on breathing through his discomfort and only opened his eyes when the door to his room opened … the slight snick of the latch alerting him.

"Mr. Braddock, what do you need?" Reba asked in a hushed tone.

"Pain meds … my leg … hurts."

"Alright. I'll be back in a moment. Your dinner will arrive soon too. Hope you like roasted pork."

Sam grimaced. "Not hungry."

"I can bring you a popsicle or jello if you prefer."

A lopsided grin burst out despite his pain. "Orange, please."

"Which one?"

"Both."

"You got it." Reba's eyes drifted to the recliner. "Your mother is a dear woman … a tigress too. She's been here the entire time. Refused to leave."

Sam blinked. "She's slept in that chair every night?"

"Yep. Back in a jiffy."

Turning his attention to his mom, Sam gently flexed his left hand.

"You're not supposed to move your hand."

"What? How did you know? Your eyes are closed. Thought you were asleep."

Audrey lifted her lids, displaying weary, bloodshot eyes. "A mother always knows. And besides, I heard the rustle of the pillow."

"Mom, you should go to the hotel and get a decent night's rest. I'm okay. And you should grab something other than hospital food … the stuff is terrible."

"No, not if you pick the right stuff. Like fresh fruit and salads. Stay away from the rehydrated potatoes and overcooked meats." Audrey stretched. "How's your pain?"

"You're sidestepping the issue."

"My prerogative."

"Mom." Sam gave her an exasperated scowl.

"Sam." Audrey smiled.

"I love you and all, but I'm a big boy. I can stay in a hospital all by myself."

Audrey lightly giggled. "Well, seeing as you've never stayed overnight in any hospital in your entire life … are you sure that is the case?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I think a Special Forces trained soldier who's spent a year and a half in the Afghan desert can handle a night or two in a Toronto hospital. It's not like Al-Quadi or the Taliban are stalking the halls waiting to attack."

_No, but that so-called team might try to come in, and you are not ready for that yet. I will protect you to the best of my ability._ "I'm staying."

"Please. You've been here for three days. Even Dad would agree you need a break. All I'm going to do is sleep anyway. That Dr. Ferguson you said I talked with before will be coming tomorrow, and well, I'm pretty sure we both need to be well rested."

Reba entered wearing her usual bright smile. "Ah, Mrs. Braddock. I hope I didn't wake you when I was in here before." She set the jello and popsicle on the rolling table and pushed it toward Sam. "Let me check your wristband."

Sam lifted his right arm, which also held his IV port. "Still the same person, although I can't remember the last four months."

"Procedure. Must check before administering any medications. Yep, still Samuel Braddock." She pulled out the syringe and prepped the IV port before injecting the painkiller. "Should take effect in a few minutes. If this doesn't reduce the pain, call me again. The doctor wants you on the lowest dose possible but will increase the amount if you are still experiencing discomfort. I'll bring in your dinner tray as soon as they delivered it, but you don't have to eat it if it doesn't appeal. I have more popsicles and some animal crackers too if you want."

Audrey's grin grew. She liked the nurse who recently transferred from pediatrics. She remained quiet as Reba checked the swelling of Sam's hand, the laceration on his leg, and the IV drip before exiting.

Using his teeth, Sam tore open the wrapper and then sucked on the sweet, cold treat. He let out a sigh and stared at the ceiling as he asked, "What do I have to do to get you to agree to go to the hotel and rest?"

"Nothing, because I'm not going."

Sam turned his eyes to his mom. "Everyone has a price."

"Not me."

A chuckle emitted from Sam. "What if I promise to be good."

"You're always good. You make me and your father quite proud."

Out of the blue, melancholy overcame Sam as thoughts of Ben entered his mind.

Audrey lowered the footrest, stood, and moved to her son's bed, attuned to the change. "Ben?"

Nodding, Sam fought the tears but lost the battle as they filled his eyes and spilled out, running down his cheeks. So much guilt weighed him down, crushing his chest, and making it difficult to breathe. "I … killed … him."

Stroking his face with a tissue, drying his tears, Audrey's voice softened. "Let everything out … cry … you hurt … so deep … you can't hold it inside. We were wrong in the way we handled Sara's death. It is okay to feel the loss, to cry, to scream, to be angry or sad."

Sam leaned into his mother's shoulder and gave in. He silently sobbed while his popsicle melted in his hand. Unaware of how much time passed, Sam eventually quieted and regained his composure. His mother handed him several tissues, and he blew his nose. She wiped his face with a cool damp cloth, and the stickiness off his right hand. She stripped off the orange stained sheet and found a new one in the little closet.

Watching his mom tend to his needs, bringing him a fresh gown too, Sam counted his blessings. "I don't deserve a mother as caring as you."

"None of that kind of talk. Yes, you do." When she finished, Audrey opened the jello cup and handed Sam a spoon with a smile. "I love you, Sammy. You will get through this, I promise. Just like before."

Holding the utensil, Sam met her eyes. "So I stopped being an emotional wreck?"

"More or less. Dr. Ferguson helped you work through things, and he will again. We are all here for you, and will do anything to help."

Though the tears had been real, Sam's wildly fluctuating emotions were under tight control, at least for now. Sam's head cocked to the side as a thought entered his head. _Underhanded, but I'm not above using every tool in my kit to obtain my objective. _"Anything?"

Tucking in the covers, and not catching the glint in her son's blue eyes, Audrey nodded. "Yes, anything, Sammy."

"Promise?"

Audrey stopped and peered at Sam. "Promi…" she trailed off. _Checkmate. I should've never taught him chess._ "You win. I'll go to the hotel on one condition."

"What?"

"You eat all your dinner … whatever it is."

Sam groaned. "Deal."

* * *

_**SRU Barn – Briefing Room**_

Having to duck out of Clark's recital, Ed was the last to arrive after receiving a page to come in. He expected it to be an emergency but halted as he spied only Team One congregated in the room. "What's up?" He strode to his usual chair and sat.

"That's what I want to know too?" Jules said, clearly dressed up for a date at someplace fancy.

Ed eyed Jules. "Scotty, again?"

"No … and its none of your business."

"But he's your personal assistance," Spike chimed in as he played with the wristband from the local laser tag place.

Wearing the same sort of band as Spike, Lou chuckled. "True. So if not Scott, who is it this week?"

Jules rolled her eyes and focused on Greg. "We're all here now. Can you tell us why we all had to drop everything and come in if there isn't a hot call that needs our attention?"

Swiveling in his chair, Wordy offered, "Probably has to do with our leave or Sam."

Ed's gut twisted, wondering if news of his little visit this morning had reached Commander Holleran or if the commander had spoken with Sam since he had awakened.

"I'm as much in the dark as the rest of you. Got the same page, and came." Greg paced near the windows but halted when Holleran entered.

"Everyone take a seat." Norman strode to the front podium, placed a folder on the surface, and gazed at SRU's best team. After they settled, he cleared his throat. "As of tomorrow, Team One will be back on duty, minus Constable Braddock."

"Why? Sam didn't do anything wrong," Spike blurted out.

Giving the techie a stern glare, Norm said, "If you can refrain from interrupting, I will explain." He received nods from all. "As I said, you are off Administrative leave effective tomorrow. However, this matter is not closed … only postponed. Braddock woke this morning, which is good news. The bad news is he possesses no memory of the past four months."

Norm waited for them to digest the information, noting shocked and concerned expressions. "The order not to visit Braddock is still in place on the advice of his doctors. It is unclear if his memories will return, but they want to give him an opportunity to regain them organically. Therefore, he has only been given minimal, pertinent details of where he is, his condition, and the date.

"He is currently unaware he left the military and joined SRU, which means, you all are strangers to him. It is imperative you do not ignore this directive. Braddock is in a sensitive emotional state, and General Braddock indicated he would pursue restraining orders if necessary. He said, and I quote, 'they will not try to assuage their guilty consciences and cause my son further harm.' Please respect this because I don't want to lose any of you to legal proceedings."

"Commander? A question, please." Greg waited.

"Go ahead."

"Did they share his physical condition, and can you tell us?"

"Yes, and yes. Physically the outlook is optimistic. Dr. Sawyer worried about nerve damage in both his leg and left hand, but after testing, it appears he will have full use of both with some time to heal and therapy."

Sighs all around filled the room, and Wordy ventured, "Sir, you said he didn't know he is out of the military. I assume at some point they will tell him, and will they also inform him of being on SRU if he doesn't recall on his own?"

"That has not been discussed with nor conveyed to me." Norm hoped to have a civil conversation with Warren, but he was not holding his breath. Warren would likely use this as a chance to get Sam to return to the army … though perhaps in a different capacity.

Ed's gaze met Greg's across the table before he turned to Holleran and asked, "Is Sam aware of what happened before he left JTF2 … the incident?"

Norm blinked. "Are you?"

"Yes, Sam told me. Opened my eyes to a few things. Namely, I acted like a jackass. He told me after the warrant call on Keenan, where the kid died. He's right, I should've asked instead of letting Steve's comment cause me to second-guess Sam."

"What did Sam tell you? He never talked to me about his service, and I asked him about it." Spike's eyes narrowed.

Ed turned to Spike. "Sorry, buddy, not my place to share."

"Oh, come on. We're a team. How are we supposed to work with him with some major secret hanging over us?" Spike retorted.

Norman stepped in to shut down Spike's prying. "If and when Braddock wants to disclose personal information with any of you, that will be up to him. Afford him the same privacy and respect you give to the other members of your team. All I'll say on the matter is, Braddock is a highly trained sniper and an asset to SRU. I sincerely hope he chooses to return.

Nodding Greg asked one more question, "Will we have a temporary until Sam's status is determined?"

"No. Team One will operate with six members until Braddock makes a decision. There are three possible outcomes. One, he decides to return and resumes his position on this team. Two, he comes back and transfers to another team, which will be an option granted him. In which case, you will gain whoever he swaps with. Three, if he decides to resign, you will run trials to select a new member."

Wordy sighed, hoping for option one. "Sir?"

"Yes."

"What about the investigation into our failures?"

Norman took a moment to just breathe. "A lot depends on if Braddock's memories return and what details he provides. That is all I can offer you at this time. I understand it is an anvil over your heads, but I expect you to take advantage of the leeway shown to you to return to duty, and take to heart our motto … Connect, Respect, and Protect. It applies internally as much as it does to the public. Your shift starts at seven, so go home and get some rest."

He stood at the podium several minutes after the team filed out. Norm's hands gripped the edges tightly, and he blew out a heavy breath. _I hope things can be salvaged. I don't want to lose any of them, including Sam._

.

* * *

**AN:** Sorry for the long delay in posting a chapter, but I needed to focus on my 10th novel, WHITEOUT is about 50% done, and I had to let EM (evil muse) whump Dan, Loki, and Scott for a bit. And while doing so, EM came up with something juicy for this story too which I didn't originally plan.


	7. Inner Recesses of the Mind

**Inner Recesses of the Mind**

* * *

_**SRU Barn – Briefing Room – 7:00 a.m.**_

Jules entered the room and her eyes landed on the chair the rookie sat in five days ago. He didn't have a regular chair like the rest of them. Sam chose a different seat almost daily. Although subconsciously noting the occurrence, she never considered its implications until this morning when the significance of his actions revealed itself. Jules sighed as her profiler mind pondered the reason.

Taking her place, she eyed the open seats. One beside Wordy, one next to Spike, four at the back, and the last right beside her. She realized he selected the ones in the back away from them for the last week, almost as if he were distancing himself from them … more likely they pushed him away, making him feel unwanted.

She sighed again watching the other five members of Team One enter. None of them appeared any happier than her to return given the news they received last night. She had not slept well, plagued with disturbing thoughts.

Holleran's words, telling them were strangers to Sam hit her hard because truthfully they were and he to them. None of them attempted to extend a true hand of friendship. One might think Spike had, but his questions for Sam always centered around Sam's time in Kandahar, a morbid fascination of sorts. It was clear Sam didn't wish to focus on his JTF2 time with the way he used deflection to avoid answering Spike.

Greg yawned as he strolled to the front. He sat and stared at the folder on the table as he said, "Nothing new to share, no warrants on tap, so today will be a patrol day. Ed and Wordy. Spike and Lou. Jules and Sam. And I'll stay here to catch up on paperwork."

"Boss?" Jules stared at Greg along with the rest of the guys.

Lifting his head, Greg peered at Jules. "Yes?"

"Um … you partnered me with Sam … he's not here."

Greg released a groan as his shoulders slumped. "Sorry, guess I'm more tired than I thought."

"S'okay. I didn't sleep much either. I'll stay here and check Sam's Remi. Clean it and make sure it was not damaged in the fall. Want to have his weapon in tiptop condition when he returns." Jules decided not to include 'if' in her thoughts. Staying positive would be the only way forward for her. Sam would return … he would. She just didn't know how long it would take for him to recover.

Nodding, Greg gave her a slight smile. He could always count on Jules … she was the heart of this team. _Somehow things will work out and we'll set things to right with Sam._

They all dispersed without any comments, each probing the inner recesses of their minds, exploring the hole created by their missing teammate.

* * *

_**Gartner Office Complex**_

Thoughts of a slow day patrolling were dashed within forty minutes when a shots-fired hot call came in. The team again converged from multiple directions as Winnie provided them the details gleaned from the 911 caller. A disgruntled former employee fired for ongoing disruptive behavior and disrespect of her coworkers snapped and returned armed with a handgun.

Hopping out, Ed scanned the area searching for Sierra positions as Jules went to interview those who escaped and Spike headed to the command truck to begin searching for background details on their subject to assist in the negotiation. He directed the remaining team members, "Wordy, Lou, cover Boss. Sam, Sierra Two, the south building roof should provide the best vantage."

"Eddie." Wordy stopped next to him with a shield.

"What?" Ed's eyes turned to his friend.

"Sam's not here, buddy."

Ed blew out a breath as he pinched his brow.

Wordy patted Ed's arm. "Seems strange we forgot him when we automatically include him now."

"Yeah. Twists the knife a bit doesn't it?" Ed glanced over at Jules as Wordy nodded and trotted after Lou and Greg.

"Jules, you're two when you finish with the witnesses." Ed slung his rifle bag over his shoulder and jogged towards the east building. His guilt eating at him. _Somehow, some way I'll make it up to Sam._

* * *

_**Toronto General – Nurses' Station**_

Audrey approached the nurses' desk and smiled at Sam's nurse. "Good Morning, Reba. How's my boy doing?"

"He had a restful night, according to Brenda. Dr. Sawyer is in with him now, so you might want to wait a moment before going in." Reba shifted her gaze to the gentleman who stood a little behind and off to the side of Sam's mother. "May I help you, sir?"

"No, I'm here with Mrs. Braddock."

Audrey offered, "This is Dr. Ferguson. He is to be allowed unrestricted access to Sam."

"Ah, Mrs. Braddock, you are looking a bit more rested today." Sawyer halted at the station.

"Morning, Dr. Sawyer. Yes, I am … Sam insisted I go to the hotel last night."

"So he told me. If you would like to join me in the conference room, I can update you on Sam's status in private." He waved his hand and allowed her to go forward, a little surprised when the man followed, but since she appeared to accept him, he didn't comment.

* * *

_**Toronto General – Private Conference Room**_

After the door closed, Audrey made introductions. "Dr. Trenton Sawyer, this is Dr. Obidiah Ferguson, Sam's psychologist. You may speak freely on Sam's condition in front of him."

The men shook hands and then all three took seats and Sawyer began his morning report to his patient's mother. "Sam's prognosis is positive. The swelling in his left hand has reduced significantly. The occupational therapist will be up this afternoon to give him some exercises to help him maintain dexterity without causing any damage as it heals. It should be a one time visit unless Sam experiences issues. I will make a referral to an outpatient OT if necessary.

"As for his leg, a physical therapist will also be visiting him today. Our goal is to get him up and mobile. However, he will be restricted to short distances and must use a walker in the beginning to avoid potential fall issues."

Audrey sighed. "He's not going to like using one of those. He can be as stubborn as his father, but I'll make sure he follows the rules."

Sawyer chuckled, having dealt with General Braddock the first few days he fully comprehended her statement. "He will require several weeks of outpatient therapy to regain full use of his leg. I can offer referrals of PTs for both here and Ottawa. I've switched him to oral medications. If he tolerates them well, and they control his pain effectively, we will remove the IV before his therapy session.

He directed his next comments to the psychologist. "Assuming no issues arise with the transition to oral meds, there will be no physical medical reason for keeping him in the hospital. I plan to discharge him tomorrow afternoon unless you believe it is in his best interest to remain in a controlled environment."

Ferguson listened and considered the situation. "I want to meet with Sam first to assess his emotional state. He suffered a significant loss recently under untenable circumstances … and well, it is best if I speak with him to determine if that is a factor or if his cognitive impairment is solely related to the excessive heat stress. If you don't mind, I would like to spend time with him today and tomorrow before providing you an answer."

"Works for me." Turning his attention to Sam's mom, he asked, "Have you determined if Sam will be staying in Toronto or going to Ottawa?"

"Still undecided." A concern she had failed to recognize until now came to mind. "And part of the reason is … well, this is embarrassing, but I don't know where Sam is living. When he moved here, he planned to stay in a hotel until he found a place to rent, so he left his address as ours on all his paperwork with SRU … only wanted to change it once. We've all been so busy we didn't have a chance to talk since he started working, so I don't know what hotel chose or if he rented an apartment."

Obidiah gave Audrey, his long-time friend, a reassuring pat on her arm. "I believe it will be safe to broach that subject today. And if he doesn't recall, I'm quite sure there is a certain general who has tools at his disposal to determine where Sam's staying. As far as here or Ottawa, that is also something I would like to hold off deciding until I speak to Sam."

Audrey smiled. "Thank you both for your excellent care. I appreciate it more than I can express."

* * *

_**Toronto General – Room 513**_

Sam flicked through the channels, finding nothing to interest him, so he finally turned off the TV. He stared at the three bland walls surrounding him, bored and frustrated. He tried to figure things out on his own but came up as blank as the walls of his room. He attempted to wheedle info out of Reba, but she only politely declined to tell him why he was in Toronto rather than Ottawa or how he came to be injured.

He turned to the doorway as his mom entered and grinned. "Morning, Mom."

"Good Morning, Sammy." Audrey ambled straight towards the bed wearing a smile and kissed him on the cheek. "I spoke with Dr. Sawyer just a moment ago. He gave me the news regarding releasing you tomorrow if all goes well."

"Yeah, I'm ready to blow this joint."

"I brought Dr. Ferguson with me today. He went to grab some coffee and will be in shortly. Wanted to ask if you want me to stay with you or leave."

Sam chuckled at his mother's overprotectiveness. "We've been through this, Mom. I'm a big boy. I can manage to talk to the shrink on my own."

Audrey nodded. "Sometimes, it is hard for a mother to let go. I should be used to it … and yes, you are a capable man. I didn't mean to imply you aren't."

Sam clasped her hand. "It's okay, Mom. To be honest, I'm glad you're here. This is all a bit disconcerting. I don't even remember why I'm in Toronto."

"Well, hopefully, the psychologist can help with that."

The door opened again, and Obidiah strode in carrying two hot coffees and an iced capp. "Hello, Sam, I'm Dr. Ferguson, and as I recall from our previous sessions, you prefer iced capps." He handed out the beverages before turning to Audrey. "Will you be staying?"

"No. My boy is all grown up and doesn't need me hovering. I'm going to do a little shopping, and I'll be back later this afternoon." She kissed Sam's cheek again and headed out.

Sam took a sip as the doctor moved a chair so they would be face to face. "My mom says I worked with you before."

"Yes. Do you recall anything about our time together?"

"No."

Obidiah nodded. "We can proceed in one of two ways. One, we start from scratch, and you open up when and if you feel you can trust me. Two, I can share a few things with you which I learned from our prior sessions and perhaps speed things along or jog your memories. The choice is yours."

"Option two. Anything to help fill in the blanks."

"Alright. You started coming to me in early April because you were having difficulty with the remorse you carry for being the one to fire the fatal shot which killed your best friend, Ben Matte. In addition to talking about the incident and results of the investigation, which by the way, I have full clearance to discuss, and I read the after action reports, we delved into the loss of your sister and how it impacted your childhood and your relationship with your parents and sister Natalie."

Sam blinked. "Wow … didn't think I was such a blabbermouth."

A chuckle emitted from Obidiah. "No, you aren't, Sam. To be frank, it took all of April, and most of May before you opened up to any degree with me. We met three times a week in that period. An intense program, but eventually, I believe I earned your trust, and I hope to maintain your confidence. Whatever you share remains with me."

"Okay …" Sam tried to recall talking to this man, but couldn't and blew out a frustrated breath. "Will you tell me why I'm in Toronto? It might jog something, and I think I might go crazy if I stay in the dark much longer."

Considering his words carefully, Obidiah said, "You wanted a change. You needed one. An opportunity was presented to you, and you agreed. In fact, you looked forward to the fresh start. You believed Ben would've supported your decision if he had not been the one you shot. Does that make sense to you?"

Sam chewed on his lower lip. "Some. Ben always had my back. So yeah … if I killed someone else in the unit, he would've supported me making a change." A flicker of something came to Sam, and his expression morphed into a questioning one. "Did I leave the military?"

"What makes you ask?"

Raking his right hand through his hair, Sam's eyes moved to the ceiling. "Not sure. But I don't know … something tells me I wouldn't be too popular with my unit afterward. Most of them were okay but a vocal few never like me, believe I got into JTF2 via family connections. Boy, they had no idea how hard I worked."

"True. We discussed that at length. Your desire to prove your worth after Sara died."

Sam's gaze returned to the doctor. "So did I exit the service?"

Hoping to spark more inklings in Sam's mind, Ferguson nodded. "Yes. You were offered an early honorable discharge given the circumstances."

"And I came to Toronto for a job?"

"Yes." He decided to answer honestly because he needed to broach the topic of Audrey's concern.

"And?" Sam eyed him waiting for him to expound.

"Anything come to mind?"

Sam took another sip of his iced coffee, willing himself to pull something from the inner recesses of his mind. "Sexy sniper chick."

"What?"

Shaking his head, a lopsided grin appeared. "Don't know … just popped into my head. Weird, huh?"

"A bit," Obidoah replied with a grin of his own. He had been supplied a brief report of Team One members and their photos, and Jules Callaghan might very well be described as sexy, and she was certainly a well-trained sniper.

"I got nothing. No idea." Another heavy exhale escaped Sam. "Why is this so hard? How did I lose my memory … and only four months?"

"The mind's inner workings are still a mystery. We're only in the infancy of our understanding, but excessive heat was a factor."

Sam's intelligence asserted itself. "Hey, if I moved here for a job, I must have a place to live here too. I wouldn't commute four hours each way from Ottawa … that would be ridiculous. I'm being released tomorrow. Perhaps if I return home, something will click."

"Do you recall where you live?"

Sam's eyes closed and he sighed. "No." Reopening them, he grinned. "But Mom should know."

"She doesn't."

"What?"

"Your mother indicated you planned to stay in a hotel until you rented a place, but the two of you didn't talk during the time you were here. She said your schedules were busy and conflicted. You never communicated which hotel or if you found a permanent residence."

"Well, that sucks. How the hell am I suppose to go home if I don't even know where it is?" Sam remained quiet for several minutes before turning bright blue eyes on Ferguson. "Credit card. If I contact them, they could tell me where I used my card, and I can find out that way."

"Excellent idea." This young man's ability to work a problem and find a solution still amazed Obidiah.

"Now I just need my wallet to find the number on the back of the card." Sam took another drink.

"I believe your mom has your wallet. This is something you can do this afternoon." Ferguson then steered the conversation in another direction to assess Sam's full mental state, to determine if his mind was still in the same dark place it had been when they started meeting in April.

* * *

_**Fuzzy Mind Bar and Grill**_

Arriving a little before one, Steve scanned the interior of the bar for several old friends he agreed to meet for lunch. Not finding them, but early, he headed to the back to snag a four-top table for them. On his way, he spotted a familiar face. "Hey, Sarge. What ya doing here?"

Peter turned his head and grinned. "Steve? The better question is, what are you doing in Toronto?"

"Well, I'm between tours and visiting the folks and a few friends. And you?"

"Moved here a few months ago. Got a job … not one I want, but it is paying the bills for the moment." Peter downed a swig of his bitter ale.

"What happened to you was wrong. So wrong."

"Water under the bridge. Can't fight the system when it is stacked against us nobodies." Peter took another drink.

"Yeah, might be right. The privileged always land on their feet. Did you hear Braddock got an honorable discharge?"

"Yep." Another swallow of beer slid down Peter's throat.

"An old buddy of mine asked me to help him with prepping for a warrant call. You remember me telling you about Ed Lane, who works for SRU?"

"I do. I thought about applying with them, but well, with the incident, I'm unlikely to be selected." Peter drained the last of his beer.

"I'm not too sure about that. Might be an opening soon."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Braddock is on Ed's team. Surprised me to see him with the city's elite team. I warned Ed to watch his back. Not sure how Braddock swung getting that position. He certainly doesn't deserve it. Should've received a BCD for killing Matte."

Peter's brow arched. "Yeah, he should've, but then again he's General Badass' son, so what do you expect? Us peon's get the shaft, and prime positions are handed to him on a silver platter."

Noting his high school buddies entering, Steve said, "Hey, you want to join me for lunch?"

"No, gotta go to work. Shift starts at two. Give me a call sometime. We'll grab a drink."

"Yeah, sure." Steve wandered off to greet his friends.

Peter Clarkson slid out of his booth, tossed money on the table to cover his meal and beer, and strode out of the pub. His mind chewing on the fact Braddock ended up in Toronto too. The embers of anger stirred and stoked the fires of his hatred for the man who ruined his life and killed Matte.

.

* * *

**AN**: Evil muse is humming the theme to Jaws.


	8. Fighting for Sam

**Fighting for Sam**

* * *

_**Toronto General – Outside Room 513 – 4:30 p.m.**_

Audrey took a breath to steady herself and hoped Sam didn't spot her puffy eyes when she entered. After Sam had called his credit card company, they discovered the hotel he was still staying at, and she went to gather him some clothing, knowing he would be more comfortable in his shorts and t-shirt than the hospital gown and he needed something to wear when he left tomorrow. Audrey corrected herself … if he left.

Her discovery might alter things considerably. She had broken down and sobbed in his hotel room. Though the truth shattered her heart, she acknowledged a mother's love might not be enough to save her son. Audrey swore fervently to use everything in her power and every tool at her disposal to ensure Sammy's recovery. She lost one child, and she refused to let Sammy go without a fight. Even if that meant overriding his desire to leave the hospital, and Warren would ensure whatever she needed would be supplied, even guards if necessary.

Sam's door opening took her by surprise, and Audrey stepped back, clearing a path as she recognized the nurse. "Hello, Reba."

Keeping her voice low, noting the red-rimmed eyes, Reba said, "Mrs. Braddock, Sam is sleeping. Are you alright?"

Producing a wane smile, Audrey nodded, but she couldn't stop the tears from sprouting again.

Her heart wrenched at the sight of Sam's mother's tears, Reba put her hand on the older woman's shoulder. "How about a cup of coffee or tea?"

Not wanting to be seen in this condition by Sam, she bobbed her head slightly and allowed Reba to lead her to the staff breakroom.

* * *

_**Toronto General – Staff Lounge – 4:35 p.m.**_

Audrey added a dash of milk to the cup of tea in front of her. "Thank you, Reba. You are so kind."

"My pleasure. Sam is lucky to have such a wonderful mother." Reba settled herself in a chair, her feet aching from being on them non-stop today. With her shift over in about an hour and a half, this was the first time since taking her lunch at ten, she had the opportunity to sit.

They sipped in silence for several minutes before Reba said, "Though not my place to pry, you appear distraught. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, but thanks for offering."

"I have a positive feeling Sam is going to regain his memories. He is such a sweet guy. And his smile brightens my day. Wish all my patients were as delightful."

Audrey's hand shook as she lifted the teacup. She wondered how much of Sam's demeanor was an act, orchestrated to hide his true pain. Yes, he cried in her arms and worked with Obidiah, but apparently, his remorse still weighed more heavily than she ever imagined.

Ten minutes later, after a pleasant light conversation, her nerves settled, more herself, and ready to face Sam, Audrey finished the tea and offered her thanks again before rising.

Once Mrs. Braddock left, Reba sagged in her chair and sighed. _She is one strong lady. I wonder what caused her distress … well, besides her son being forgotten by his teammates. Terrible thing … but if they were all just as hot as Sam that day, perhaps that might explain their lapse. I hope they resolve this amicably._

Gathering the cups, Reba headed for the sink to wash them. She turned on the spigot, and the handle broke off. "Oh, darn!" With the water running non-stop, she opened the cabinets below and reached in for the turnoff valve. The night shift would be none too happy not to be able to make coffee or tea. She would need to place a call to the maintenance department … and hopefully, they would send someone up to fix it tonight.

* * *

_**SRU Barn – Briefing Room – 6:40 p.m.**_

Five members of Team One nodded thanks from their seats, as Lou handed out Timmy's coffees to them. Debrief on the four hot calls they encountered today completed twenty-minutes ago, and they all hoped no more came in before their shift ended. But they were no strangers to calls coming in right before seven, so took the opportunity to tank up on caffeine just in case.

Their debrief had been unusual in one fact … something which started this morning with Boss. Sam must've been forefront in all their minds, because at some point during each call, someone called for or to Sam to do something. An enlightening fact that although they forgot him at Brighton Complex, Sam managed to become an integral part of their team without them realizing. Which only twisted the guilt knife deeper in all of them.

Spike fiddled with his cup, his mind mulling over the last few days. He didn't look forward to going home tonight. Things with his pa had been tense of late, and when he explained to his ma why he had unexpected days off, the disappointment in her eyes for his actions filled him with more regret. And Pa … well, his looks were always one of disdain for his chosen line of work, but there was extra condemnation when he overheard.

Glancing at Lou, Spike said, "Wanna grab a beer?"

Recognizing what his buddy must be up against, Lou nodded. "Sure."

"Mind if I join you?" Jules asked.

"More the merrier. Wordy? Ed? Boss?" Spike invited with only a name.

Rubbing his sore shoulder, a result of a takedown where he called for Sam to back him up … forgetting for a moment the rookie wasn't with them, Wordy said, "Shel is expecting me. Otherwise, I would." Wordy wanted to spend time with his girls … they soothed his guilty conscience … a little. Nothing would assuage it completely until he could apologize to Sam and that might be a long time in coming if General Braddock had anything to say about it … and he did.

"You should ice your shoulder, buddy." Ed swiveled in his chair.

"Yeah, I will. I'll be fine by tomorrow." Wordy dropped his hand.

After considering whether to go home to an empty house, and deciding the oppressive thoughts of his failure wouldn't be able to overpower him in the company of others, Ed accepted the invitation. "I'll come. Sophie and Clark are having dinner with her parents tonight and won't be home until late."

"Thanks, but I have some reading to do tonight." Greg took a drink, and his eyes shifted to the windows.

"What are you reading?" Jules asked.

Greg's gaze turned to her. _Yeah, she would be the one to ask._ "A book by Dr. Obidiah Ferguson on the reintegration of soldiers into civilian life after experiencing action. I thought it might give me an insight into Sam. The soldier mindset isn't one I've studied."

"When you're done, you want to let me borrow it? I mean with the larger number of soldiers coming home after serving in Afghanistan and Sudan … would be helpful for more than Sam," Jules said.

"True. Sure."

Troy, Team Four's sergeant, strolled in. "My team is all here and suited up if you all want to leave a few minutes early."

"Thanks. We'll take you up on that, Troy. Been a long day." Greg stood.

As Spike rose, he said, "There's this new place I want to try instead of the Goose. Supposed to have pool tables and a stellar selection of beers."

"I'm game, what's it called?" Lou followed Spike towards the locker room.

"The Fuzzy Mind Bar and Grill."

"Hopefully, they have decent burgers." Ed's stomach rumbled, ravenous and willing to eat just about anything, good or bad.

* * *

_**Fuzzy Mind Bar and Grill – 7:30 p.m.**_

Steve's lunch get-together with three old buddies turned into an afternoon of drinking and pool then dinner and more pool. He enjoyed his break between tours, but the itch to return to the fight always niggled in the back of his mind. A soldier through and through, he would never be satisfied to live a civilian life. As Ferris racked the balls, Steve's gaze moved to the front door when it opened … ever vigilant. "Well, ain't this a surprise. Back in a moment, boys." Steve meandered towards Ed, unable to walk a straight line.

Jules, Lou, Spike, and Ed located a table in the half-full bar. They took seats as a waitress came over and handed them menus, and they ordered four beers.

Spike sighed. "Hope Wordy's shoulder is really okay. Can't believe we called for Sam so many times and he didn't answer today. The worst was when Wordy needed him to back him up. I should've been there." As soon as he spoke the words, Spike realized his error ... Sam couldn't answer because he was in the hospital and not with them.

Ed scrunched his brows at Spike's choice of words. It made it sound like Sam deliberately didn't answer them, when in fact, he wasn't there to answer. He opened his mouth to correct Spike, but an unexpected voice spoke first.

"Braddick at it again? Sorry to hear Wordy is hurt. Damn, I told you to watch your team's back with Braddock around. He's a royal screw-up who only made it into JTF2 because his daddy is a general. How he ever landed a job with SRU is beyond me. If you want a good candidate to replace the idiot before he gets someone killed, I can pass you Pete Clarkson's number."

Turning, Ed stared at Steve, as did the others. Ed recognized Spike, Jules, and Lou were not privy to Sam's reason for leaving JTF2 and wanted to keep it that way if at all possible. The alcohol fairly wafted off Steve, so Ed gave the inebriated man a little leeway in his response, but needed to set things right and shut him down. "Sam's not at fault for Wordy's shoulder injury or the other situation for which he was cleared. And I'd appreciate it if you would not trash talk a member of my team."

Swaying and grabbing onto the back of Jules' chair, Steve snorted. "What, General Daddy make a huge donation to your policemen's fund or something, and you gotta be all nice to Braddickwad? The privileged prima donna always comes out on top, while others pay for his mistakes."

Jules' eyes rounded. "Sam's our teammate. Keep your nasty comments to yourself. I think you've imbibed enough alcohol and need to take a cab home to sleep it off."

A leering expression crossed Steve's face as he ogled Jules. "What, he get on top of you? Heard screwing others is the only thing he was ever good at. I'm better than him." Steve leaned down, his hands pawing at her, and his lips moved in to kiss her.

In a swift movement, Jules was out of her chair and had Steve's arm twisted behind his back. "Time for you to leave."

Using his greater mass, Steve whipped around, ramming his elbow into Jules' jaw, sending her to the ground. In the blink of an eye, Ed, Lou, and Spike were on their feet. Spike went directly to Jules, helping her up. Ed ducked when Steve swung at him and landed a return blow when Steve tried again. Lou positioned himself behind Steve to grab his arms, trying to restrain him before things escalated.

Steve's buddies took exception to their friend being assaulted and joined the fray. Blows were exchanged. Tables and chairs knocked over and broken. Six others who needed no reason to fight, jumped into the melee, while the majority of the patrons and the wait staff backed up giving the brawlers a wide berth. The owner called 911. Thirty minutes later, four members of Team One sat in chairs, ice bags to bruised faces, giving statements to uniformed officers as Troy's team and other constables led out ten drunken men in handcuffs, Steve among them.

When they were all alone again, Spike sighed. "I guess it is the Goose from now on."

Ed nodded, visually examining his team.

"What did Steve mean by watch your team's back with Sam around?" Jules asked.

"Never mind. Not my place to tell, and it makes no difference. Steve's opinion is wrong."

"Does this have to do with why Sam left JTF2?" Spike shifted his cold pack from his eye to his split lip.

Ed stood, ignoring the question. "Suggest you all go home. Boss isn't gonna be too happy tomorrow when we walk in all bruised."

"Worth it. Didn't like Steve's comments regarding Sam and no one hits Jules and gets away with it." Lou rose.

Spike and Jules followed suit, and they ambled out of the destroyed bar.

* * *

_**Toronto General – Fifth Floor – 8:30 p.m.**_

"I'll be back in a moment. I'll bring you some ice cream when I get my coffee if you like," Audrey said after receiving the text from Obidiah indicating he arrived.

"Sure. Thanks, Mom." Sam rested his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. He looked forward to this being the last night in the hospital and appreciated his mom bringing him regular clothing today from his place. He wondered why he hadn't rented an apartment in three weeks and continued living in a hotel. Perhaps the job he came for wasn't working out as he expected or maybe he just hadn't found a place within his price range or to his liking.

He hoped the missing pieces would fall into if he was in a familiar location. Sam let out a heavy sigh as thoughts of Ben came to mind. God, he missed him. Though it might be four months later to everyone else, Ben's death was still raw for him. Sam clenched his jaw to stop from screaming out his grief ... mostly because he didn't want to worry his mom.

When Audrey stepped out, she spotted the psychologist near the breakroom. Not wanting Sam to overhear she hurried in his direction and halted outside the open door. "Thanks for coming. I didn't want to talk to you about this over the phone."

"Anything you need Audrey, you know that. Anything." Obidiah leaned on the wall.

Reaching a manicured hand into her pocket, Audrey withdrew a slip of paper. Her hand shook, but she managed to keep her voice even as she said, "When I went to Sam's hotel room, I found several things which concern me. On the nightstand was the pearl-handled colt Warren gave Sam. It was loaded. Next to the gun was a stack of pictures of Sam and Ben. Ones from high school to JTF2. But this …" she held out the paper, "this is what broke my heart and worries me. I think this is a suicide note."

Ferguson took the sheet and unfolded it. And silently read the missive.

_Ben,_

_Life is too hard without you. No one understands me as you did. I wanted to make a difference … but I destroyed you instead. I wish I could change things … but I can't … and living with the knowledge I killed my best friend … my brother is too much to bear._

_The only thing keeping me in this world is how disappointed my father would be in me if I take the coward's way out … and how much I would hurt my mother. But somedays things are so dark I pick up the colt, caress the trigger, and think how easy it would be to eat a bullet and end my agony._

_I'm good … too good … I wouldn't miss … I never miss. God, I wish I had missed you. I deserve to die for taking your life. I want to die._

Refolding the note, Obidiah put an arm around Audrey and pulled her to him. "It might be a suicide note, but then again, it might be an outlet for his negative thoughts."

"Should Sammy be released tomorrow afternoon? I'm so afraid if he is … he might try to take his life. Especially after what his SRU team did to him."

"First, Sam isn't aware his team forgot him. Not yet, at least. So that won't factor into my decision. I will explore his current mindset regarding Matte's death tomorrow morning. If I find he might be at risk, I think a more controlled environment would be in order, but I believe we can achieve that outside a hospital setting.

"Regardless of whether he is in that state of mind, perhaps moving him back home to Ottawa would be best for a short period. He appeared comfortable living there when we worked together in April, and the loving and supportive environment you and General Braddock created for Sam previously will be beneficial if in fact, he is contemplating suicide."

Audrey nodded and pulled out of her long-time friend's comforting embrace. "Okay. I'll make travel arrangements in the morning while you talk to Sam. I want to help him heal both physically and emotionally. If only that sergeant had ensured all the men were out of the target zone before giving the clear to fire signal, Sammy wouldn't be going through this, and sweet Ben would still be alive."

"Yes. But we can't change history. We can only go forward. I believe, with time, Sam will be able to adjust and come to terms with what occurred. He might always carry a sense of guilt, though it wasn't his fault. However, remorse doesn't have to ruin his future happiness. Stay optimistic, Audrey. Your son is a resilient man."

Ferguson pocketed the note. "I'll hold onto this for now. Go spend a quiet evening with him, and I'll tackle the gritty stuff in the morning after Sam is well-rested."

"I don't know how Warren and I will ever repay you." Audrey hugged him fiercely then stepped back and gave him a slight smile.

"Your happiness is payment enough." Obidiah chuckled as he added, "And my bill will be quite high … likely break the bank."

Audrey giggled. "Free won't break the bank. I wish you would actually let us pay you."

"I would never charge friends. And you're paying for my travel expenses and hotel already. I'll meet with Sam about eight thirty, and if you can come by at lunch, we'll talk with Dr. Sawyer regarding our decisions. And Audrey, do try to sleep tonight … but not in the recliner. We need to keep things on an even keel. Sam will expect you to go to your hotel room this evening."

"Don't want to, but I'll heed your advice. You've been right so far." Audrey waved as Obidiah strode towards the elevator.

She sighed when the doors closed and then turned to enter the breakroom to grab an ice cream cup for Sam from the freezer. Audrey noted a plumber working on the sink and wished she had moved to the private conference room to talk, but she had been so rattled she hadn't thought clearly. Without giving him much attention, she selected an orange sherbet, picked up a plastic spoon, and hurried back to Sam.

"Here you go, sweetie." Audrey handed over the frozen treat and spoon.

"Where's your coffee?" Sam asked, noting the lack of cup.

In her haste to return, she forgot her ruse for leaving, but then recalled the maintenance worker. "The sink was broken, so no coffee. Besides, I shouldn't have more caffeine so late if I want to be able to sleep."

* * *

_**Toronto General – Staff Lounge – 9:05 p.m.**_

As the plumber completed his job by snugging down the bolt, he ruminated on what he overheard. A grin crossed his face as he turned on the main valve to test the new faucet handle for leaks. "Yep, the whelp's suicide might be the best thing for me." Finding everything working properly, he whistled as he gathered his tools and headed out, his mind now at ease with a perfect opportunity to rid him of his problems.

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket, surprised by who was calling. "Hey. What's up?" He paused and listened. "Damn. Yeah, I can. I'm due for my lunch break. How much is bail?" After finding out the details he hung up, and his decision solidified, but he would need to plan and act fast.

.

* * *

**AN:** And the plot thickens. Hope you're enjoying. Thanks for all the wonderful comments.


	9. Making Sense of Images

**Making Sense of Images**

* * *

_**Toronto General – Nurses' Station – 7:30 a.m.**_

"Morning, Dr. Ferguson." Reba beamed as she noted the psychologist coming her way.

"Beautiful day, Reba. Is Sam awake?"

"Yes, finishing his breakfast. I didn't expect you until about eight thirty. Should I contact physical therapy and ask them to hold off until you're done?"

"Please. And thank you. I wanted to get an earlier start, as I have several assessments to complete before my meeting with Dr. Sawyer and Mrs. Braddock."

"You're welcome. Oh, and if you want coffee, there is a fresh pot in the staff lounge."

"Hmmm, I think I might. No restrictions on taking one to Sam is there?"

"Nope. He enjoys his poured over ice in the summer. Or so a little birdie shared with me."

Obidiah chuckled. "Exactly like his mother. Would you ensure you knock before entering … and keep everyone else out … privacy will be important this morning."

"Absolutely." She reached under the desk and handed him a laminated paper. "Hang this on the door to notify others no visitors are allowed. Should preempt any unwanted interruptions from other hospital staff … like housekeeping."

"Thanks." Obidiah took the paper and placed it on top of his folder before striding down the hall to obtain coffee first for both he and Sam.

* * *

_**Toronto General – Room 513 – 7:50 a.m.**_

Sam sipped his iced coffee as Dr. Ferguson finished a phone call with his receptionist. He remained somewhat surprised the doctor essentially cleared his schedule to travel to Toronto to work with him. But he appreciated it too. The man was frank and helpful as they discussed things yesterday. He wanted to talk about a few flashes … images he believed might be memories. If they were, it would settle his mind and give him hope that the missing four months would return and he could go on with this life once his leg healed.

After hanging up, Obidiah said, "Sorry, Melissa will hold all further calls until I text her. I'm all yours now. How was your night?"

Setting his cup down, Sam breathed in deep and exhaled heavily. "Had a few nightmares. Relived the day I shot Ben. Was not pleasant. When I lay in bed after waking a few still frames … like from a movie or something popped into my head. I'm not sure if they're memories or not."

"Tell me about them." Obidiah lifted his cup to take a drink as he balanced his folder on his lap.

"Strange things. One of my old unit mates … someone who didn't like me came to mind."

"Who?"

"Steve Hicks."

"Okay. And …"

"Well, it was weird. I took him down, pinning him to the ground like he was a criminal. Then the image changed. First, there was a child's fishing rod. Made me uncomfortable holding it … like I screwed up and put my unit at risk. Next, I stood next to an ambulance as a gurney with a body bag on it was rolled out of a building. The last image was of me swimming in a harbor. I suck at swimming … I'm more likely to drown. I barely passed the swimming portion of Special Forces training. Always thought they might've let me squeak by because of my marksmanship abilities. Not much swimming involved with being a sniper in a desert."

Sam reached for the coffee again. "So, do you know if those are real or only something my mind conjured up?

"What does your gut tell you?"

"Aw, come on. Can't I get a straight answer?" Sam stared at the doctor.

"Truthfully, I'm not sure. There are a couple of months I'm not privy to your daily activities. Might I offer a possible suggestion for the imagery?"

"Sure."

"I recall you sharing with me that you and Ben went fishing every chance you got as teenagers."

"Yeah, we did."

"And Steve Hicks was one of the more vocal members of your unit who pushed for you to be brought up on criminal charges in Ben's death."

Sam sighed and nodded. "Told everyone who would listen to watch their backs around me. Claimed I caused two unit members deaths … Ben's and Sergeant Clarkson's … though Clarkson didn't die … he only got demoted as far as I know. So what does that have to do with a fishing rod, a dead body, pinning Steve and swimming?"

"Perhaps you want Steve to stop, so you pinned him down. The rod might represent a time of innocence … when you and Ben were carefree, and the body bag could be Ben's death. The swimming … perhaps you're feeling like you are drowning in grief …" Obidiah trailed off, watching closely to see if any of this hit a nerve.

Contemplating the words for several moments, Sam began to shake his head. "No … don't think that is right. My gut is telling me they happened … just can't place when or how."

"Okay … I can accept that. There are a couple of things I would like to cover this morning."

"Alright. What?"

"You're mother went to your hotel room to gather your clothes and found a few things which worried her."

Sam's brows drew together. "Like what?" He laughed when a thought came to him. "I didn't have porno mags did I?"

Obidiah chuckled. "No. No magazines like that lying about … at least she didn't indicate any. And I'm sure that wouldn't worry her … you are a man after all."

"So what?"

"A loaded pistol on your bedside table and a stack of photos of you and Ben from when you met through your service." He paused, waiting for a reaction.

Sam's eyes dropped to his lap as he drew his lower lip in his mouth with his upper teeth in an expression of concentration. Lifting his eyes and meeting Ferguson's gaze, he exhaled gradually. "She's afraid I want to commit suicide. Right?"

"Yes. Have you been considering taking your life?"

"Honestly?"

"That would be best."

Maintaining a steady gaze, Sam said, "Thought crossed my mind … at least four months ago. No idea if it did in the missing ones. But I wouldn't. It is the coward's way out. On a team, the only thing protecting yourself is each other, so we made a deal. You give up like that, you don't mean anything to the team anymore.

"Most of the team abandoned me after I shot Ben, but a few, Dave, Jay, and Chris, they stood by me through the entire inquiry. As much as it hurts, and God, it hurts so bad sometimes, I can't break my word to them or to Ben. And beyond them … my mom and dad … I couldn't put them through losing another child … especially if it were by my own hand. And Nat … she's screwed up enough. If I killed myself, she might never get her life together."

Obidiah nodded and pulled the note out of the manila folder. "She also found this."

Sam took the offered sheet and read it. He blew out a long breath. "Don't remember writing this … but I do recall reading a book on dealing with grief, and it suggested writing to the person you lost and then putting the letters in a burn box. A way to release emotions and thoughts you don't want to voice out loud because someone might judge you or overreact. Maybe that is what this is."

His blue eyes shifted back to Ferguson, his voice firm. "I miss Ben … a lot, but I'm not suicidal. I won't dishonor his memory by taking my life. I will honor him by striving to be a better person and making a difference. Something Ben always wanted to do … something he did right up until the end."

"I believe you, Sam. Your mother will be relieved."

"You said you wanted to discuss a few things … what's the next?" Sam swallowed the last of the coffee in a large gulp.

Ferguson rose and moved the breakfast tray from Sam's table to the chair and set the folder down. "In here, I have photos of people you may or may not know. When I show them to you, I would like you to focus on their faces and tell me the first things that come to your mind."

"You mean like word association?"

"Sort of, but don't limit yourself to only one word. Share whatever pops to mind."

"Okay."

Obidiah flipped open the folder and a photo of General Braddock displayed.

"Dad. Badass Soldier. Sir. Authority. Arguments. Trust. Safety." Sam glanced at Ferguson. "Is that enough?"

"Whatever you want to share."

"Faith in me. Protector. Loves me." Sam sighed. "Man, we had some horrible set to's when I was a teen. I ran away and joined the Toronto Police after one of them. He wanted me to become an officer like him … not what I wanted. Ben talked me into joining the military with him about a year later. Like we always planned. I sorta missed the Fifty-first Division. The guys I worked with were great, but I couldn't say no to Ben, so I quit. I think I made my dad proud when I made Special Forces, even though I didn't go the officer route."

Sam picked up the cup, wishing for more, and set the empty cup down. "Next." A WOW smile formed. "Mom. Tigress. Love. Care. Comfort. Always in my corner. A realist with strong faith. Next."

"Jackass." Sam stared at the image of Steve. "Next."

Studying the next picture, a tall, broad-shouldered man with nearly shaved brown hair, blue eyes, and a friendly smile. "Kind." His eyes shifted to the psychologist. "Do I know him?"

"What do you think?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure."

Obidiah flipped to the photo.

Sam grinned and chuckled. "Sexy. Beautiful. Warm. Tough." He reached for the snapshot of a petite woman with brown hair and eyes … drawn to her. "If I don't know her, I want to meet her. Wow. Can I keep this?"

"No. Sorry." Obidiah smiled. "How about this one?"

"I know him … well, not really … he came into my room, and Mom yelled at him to get out. Is he military? He has the right bearing." When the doctor only turned over the photo, Sam realized Ferguson wouldn't divulge any info, so he decided to quit asking questions and go with the flow. A black man appeared next, and he answered with the first thing that popped into his head. "Not giving him any cocaine."

"What?" Obidiah blurted out at the unexpected response.

Sam scratched his head. "Don't rightly know. Just popped in." Sam studied the picture. Flashes … jumbled thoughts, combined with frustration, came to him. "Hard to connect." He grabbed the stack of previously viewed images and pulled out the bald man, the shaven haired man, and the woman. He placed them all on the table, his gaze moving from one to another.

He tapped the woman. "Sniper. Burritos and Beer." Moving to the kind eyes. "Father. Daughters." Zeroing in on the man who came into his room, Sam shook his head. "Be careful crossing the big road … double-double."

Obidiah pulled out another photo. "What about him?"

Sam stared at the raven-haired man. "Babycakes. Computers. Funny."

"And him?"

"Listens. Helps. Sarge. Connects." Sam's head spun as a blast of unconnected images hit him. He squeezed his eyes closed and leaned back, releasing a groan.

"Sam?" Obidiah worried he went too fast, pushed too hard showing him all of Team One's photos.

"I'm okay." Sam pressed the heel of his palms to his eyes. "I know them … I just don't know them. My gut … well, it is mixed. Friends … no, not right." Sam dropped his hands and lifted his eyelids. "Coworkers. I came here for a job. I work with them, right?" When Ferguson remained quiet, he pleaded, "At least tell me if I'm on the right track, please."

"Yes."

Sam returned his focus to the six people, studying them for any details which might trigger a solid memory and trying to make sense of the plethora of images swirling in his mind. His concentration was interrupted when the door to his room opened. It took him a moment before he said, "What are you doing here?"

.

* * *

**AN:** Shorter chapter than normal, but didn't want you to have to wait another few days for something. And the evil muse decided on a little cliffy.


	10. Facing Death on His Terms

**Facing Death on His Terms**

* * *

_**Toronto General – Fifth Floor Nurses' Station – 8:20 a.m.**_

One arm slung over Ferguson's shoulders, and the other over the other man's, Sam took halting steps down the hall towards the elevator. He kept his eyes on the ground as instructed because the business end of a gun was pressed into Ferguson's side by the hand supposedly around his waist to support him. If Sam had been alone in the room, he would've fought back, took his chances, but he wasn't so he didn't when Ferguson's life was threatened.

Reba glanced up from her paperwork, surprised to see Sam coming towards her … on his feet instead of a wheelchair. He wasn't supposed to put any weight on his leg, except for the short distance from his bed to the bathroom, and that was to be done with the aid of the walker. She noted the beads of sweat on his brow, and his body language indicated pain.

She peered at Dr. Ferguson, wondering just what the heck they were doing, but then her eyes moved to an unknown man in scrubs. As they came close, Reba stood. "Sam, what are you doing out of your room?"

Sam clenched his jaw, hoping Reba backed off and let them pass … he didn't want anyone to die, and the man's hate-filled eyes left no doubt he would follow through on his threat if Sam didn't fully comply.

Despite the gun's barrel poking him in the side and a threat he would die if he didn't remain quiet, Obidiah knew he must communicate the situation or Reba would continue to probe and put herself in jeopardy. "Sam needs a bit of fresh air for our conversation. We're going to the atrium, and I asked the orderly to assist me."

When the unidentified orderly told her he was happy to help, Reba pinned him with a glare. "Then you should've gone to get a wheelchair. Sam isn't supposed to be walking too far."

Feeling the hand holding the weapon start to move, worried for Reba's life, Sam lifted his head and met her eyes. "I'm fine." He dropped his eyes again as his abductor's hand moved back, only a threat to Ferguson.

Taking a chance, well aware of security procedures in hospitals for active shooters, Obidiah grinned at Reba, and said, "I'll take great care with Sam. Oh, and please inform Mr. Cody Silver I might be a few minutes late for our session. I don't want him to become anxious if I'm not there on time."

Keeping her composure, things clicking into place, Reba returned the smile. "Sure. As soon as I can. I have a few patients to tend to first. Sam, don't overdo."

"Much appreciated, Reba," Obidiah said.

Reba resumed her seat and appeared to be busy with paperwork, hoping whoever the man was on Sam's left didn't understand the distress code Dr. Ferguson used. She waited until the elevator doors closed and noted it went up not down before she picked up the phone and dialed 911.

* * *

_**SRU Barn – 8:20 a.m.**_

"You're number one today, only because Samtastic isn't here," Spike claimed as he stared at his groupings on his target, a bit disgusted with his results this morning. Yeah, he was still better than ninety-eight percent of all police officers on the force, but somedays he wished he shot as well as Jules, Ed, and Sam. The latter being the best shooter SRU had seen in a decade.

Ed lifted a brow at Spike's snarky remark, but winced as the action caused him a slight pain … luckily the swelling around his eye had receded enough not to hinder his vision this morning. The brawl at the bar last night resulted in him, Spike, Lou, and even Jules sporting various bruises today. Boss had only chuckled when Spike had quipped they came out the victors.

He tapped Spike's target. "Perhaps you need more time on the gun range and less time with Babycakes."

"Hey, leave my girlfriend out of this." Spike chuckled, ignoring the pull on his healing split lip as he flexed his scuffed knuckles, able to blame his less than stellar performance on a sore hand.

WERP WERP WERP

Their attention focused on the PA system, unsure if they would be the team called out. Winnie's voice followed the klaxon alarm, "Team One, gear up. Potential hostage situation at Toronto General."

Switching on their headsets, recognizing Winnie would already be on channel one, Greg said, "Details," as the team rushed to the SUVs after grabbing their weapons.

"Guys, it's Sam. His nurse, Reba, is still on the line I'll patch her in."

"Sam took someone hostage?" Spike asked in disbelief as he slid into the passenger side as Lou got in the driver's seat. He noted his buddy moved a little slower today … likely due to the tender ribs from several punches that the burly guys landed on Lou's torso during last night's bar fight.

Lou glanced over at his best friend. "Don't assume." He put the vehicle in drive and followed Ed out of the SRU garage.

* * *

_**SRU SUVs - En Route to Hospital – 8:25 a.m.**_

"She's on the line now," Winnie said.

"Hi Reba, I'm Sergeant Greg Parker, can you provide me more details?"

"I'm not certain what is actually going on. I think someone took Sam and Dr. Ferguson hostage. Sam shouldn't be walking and, well, a man who I've never seen on this floor before claimed to be an orderly and was helping Sam along with Sam's psychologist. Dr. Ferguson said Sam needed some air and they were going to the atrium, but the elevator went up not down like they were going to the roof, but I can't be certain.

"Not only that, but Dr. Ferguson asked me to tell Mr. Cody Silver he would be late for his appointment. Code Silver is our signal for an active shooter. I didn't see a gun, but the man's arm was around Sam's waist under Sam's shirt … he might be armed."

"Did this Dr. Ferguson have a patient by the name of Silver?" Greg inquired.

"No. Ferguson doesn't work here. Sam's parents arranged for him to travel from Ottawa to work with Sam again. Mrs. Braddock indicated the doctor should have full access to Sam."

Jules turned to Wordy as she drove and mouthed, "Again?"

Wordy shrugged. They didn't know much about Sam and had no clue why he might've seen a psychologist before, but it made sense now with his memory loss. His eyes remained a second longer on Jules' bruised jaw, proud of his teammates for sticking up for Sam and not letting Steve bad mouth him.

A part of Wordy wished he had been there too. If he had, perhaps Jules would be unscathed. He almost laughed … he would be sporting bruised biceps if he voiced that thought out loud. Jules didn't take kindly to being viewed as less durable than the guys. And truth be told, she held her own against guys much bigger than herself.

"Did your security cameras capture an image of the man you believe is posing as an orderly?"

"Security only monitors the ICU on the third floor, the entrances, the loading dock, and canteen. The rest of the floors don't have cameras due to patient privacy. I could describe him … a little. White with a slight suntan, about Sam's height and build. Although more muscular. His biceps were massive. He also had light blond hair … lighter than Sam's and blue eyes. I hope that helps."

"Spike—"

"On it, Boss." Spike pulled out his phone as Winnie provided him the direct number to the hospital's security office needing them to scan the available footage for someone who fits that description.

Within the next few minutes, Team One arrived at Toronto General, silent running as they approached, and hurried inside directly to the security room which they commandeered and started setting up equipment. The crucial piece would be to locate the three in question and determine if this was indeed a critical incident.

* * *

_**Toronto General – Fifth Floor Nurses' Station – 8:35 a.m.**_

Greg strode up to the desk with Wordy and Jules behind him. He stopped and addressed the three nurses, "Which one of you is Reba?"

"Me." Reba waved her hand.

"Has anyone gone into Sam's room since they left?"

"No. And we've locked down all the other patient rooms as a preventative measure."

"Okay. I need you three to go to someplace safe and stay until you receive an all clear."

"I'm sorry, Sergeant, but we must remain here to care for our patients." Reba straightened her spine. "And besides, I'm not certain if I jumped the gun in calling 911. I wouldn't want any of my patients to suffer if that is the case."

Greg nodded. He turned to Jules. "Check Sam's room for any clues."

"Copy." Jules hurried off down the hall.

"What floor did the elevator stop at?" Greg returned his focus to Reba.

"Tenth. That is as far as those elevators go. If they went to the roof they would have to take the stairs from there. But they could've ridden the elevator down again because they stepped into the first one which opened after pressing the button."

* * *

_**Toronto General – Room 513**_

Jules entered Sam's room and moved to the rolling table when her eyes caught sight of the open folder. She blinked as she found a photo of her … not in uniform … and ones of everyone on Team One. Shifting through them, Jules reported. "Found several pictures … all of us, General Braddock, a lady with blonde hair, one of Steve Hicks and several others who I don't recognize. But by their appearance, they may be soldiers."

Her eyes landed on a piece of paper and her stomach churned as she read the suicide note. "Um, Boss … found something else. I think you need to see. I'm bringing it to you … might explain why they went to the roof. Might not be a hostage situation after all." She rushed out with the photos and paper.

* * *

_**Toronto General – Fifth Floor Nurses' Station**_

Greg accepted the note and his mouth went dry as he read. The only thing which confused him is the letter was addressed to Ben, and the name Sam gave Ed had been Matt after Ed shoved Sam up against the ambulance. Not Ed's most shining moment.

"Boss, found three potentials from the security footage. Running them through facial rec now, but sending you images … perhaps Reba can recognize the guy … or tell us if it isn't any of them." Spike shared.

"Good idea." Greg pulled out his phone, waiting for the text. When they came through, he turned it to Reba. "Is the orderly one of these men?"

Reba studied the faces of the men who appeared similar … none wearing scrubs. "This one. I'm like ninety percent certain … but he is wearing the hospital's maintenance uniform."

"Spike, the second photo."

"I'm checking against the hospital's records," Lou said as he glanced at Spike.

Greg grinned at Reba. "Thanks for the help." He pivoted and said, "Ed, Wordy, Jules, and I are going to the roof."

"Copy." Ed continued to scan the building's blueprints, needing to have an awareness of the layout to develop a tactical plan if this did turn out to be a hostage call.

* * *

_**Toronto General – Roof**_

Spent, both legs shaking from the effort of climbing the stairs, unable to bear weight on the injured one, in extreme pain, and sweating profusely, Sam crashed to the roof's cement flooring when Clarkson abruptly let go and moved away. Though Dr. Ferguson tried to keep him upright, Sam didn't have any remaining stamina left to assist. He peered up at the hate-filled man. "You're not going to get away with killing me."

An evil grin appeared as Peter laughed. "Oh, but I'm not killing you … you're going to commit suicide." He waved the gun at the unexpected impediment to his plan. "And you're gonna murder the doc when he tries to stop you."

"I'm not going to do either!"

"Yes. You. Are." Peter focused on the doctor. "You shouldn't have been here … you weren't expected until eight-thirty."

"My lucky day," Obidiah said calmly as he crouched next to Sam. He was glad he came early, or Sam would already be dead. Understanding Sam wouldn't take his own life, former Sergeant Clarkson was forced to improvise instead of staging a suicide for Sam in his room as he initially planned. At least with him here, Sam stood a fighting chance of surviving, especially if Reba contacted the authorities. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," Sam lied.

"NO TALKING!" Pointing the weapon at Sam, Peter ordered, "Get up."

"Can't."

"I said get up … NOW!"

"And I said I can't, Jackass. You're just gonna have to shoot me where I am."

Shifting the gun to the other man, Peter snarled. "You don't stand right now … I put a bullet between his eyes."

"Be kind of hard to claim I committed suicide if you shoot Dr. Ferguson. Neither one of us had access to guns." Sam glared, unwilling to cooperate much further. He was unlikely to come out of this alive, so he refused to help this asshole make his murder appear to be a suicide. He wouldn't hurt his parents like that … he was not a coward and would face death head-on … but on his terms … not Clarkson's.

Sam watched as the gun moved back and forth between him and Ferguson, Clarkson becoming more erratic by the second. Then the pistol stopped moving, choosing a target. Sam's fearless blue eyes held Peter's fury-filled ones, unflinching as Clarkson shouted, "You ruined my life!"

**BANG!**

* * *

AN: I'm in my bunker ... safe and sound for now.


	11. You Murdered Him

**You Murdered Him**

* * *

**_Toronto General – Roof_**

As Clarkson shouted, "You ruined my life!" Sam's eyes flicked to Peter's trigger finger, which thanks to military training was aligned on the barrel, a safety measure drilled into them since boot camp. This would afford him a small window of opportunity, but he must time it right. When Clarkson's finger began to move, telegraphing his intent to fire, Sam used his uninjured leg to push up and to his left, knocking into Dr. Ferguson, using his body to shield the psychologist as Clarkson fired.

The burning pain of a bullet grazing his arm was a small price to pay for keeping Ferguson from certain death. If he hadn't moved, there was no way Peter would've missed at this close of range. Before he could react further, Clarkson gripped his hair and yanked him off Ferguson. As the jackass pulled him backward, Sam wished for his standard buzz cut, which wouldn't have given Clarkson something to grab. Sam grimaced and groaned as Clarkson dumped him on the ground and pressed his boot into the back of his wounded thigh, sending pain shooting up and down his leg.

Obidiah gasped as he lay flat on his back, surprised to be alive, and shocked at how fast Sam moved. He wiped at his eyes, the spray of blood from Sam's arm coated his face. Unsure whether he should remain still or move, having never been in a situation like this, he prayed help would arrive before they both ended up dead.

Unaware help was almost there, in the form of three SRU officers at the top to the stairs, Sam almost rolled, in an attempt to take Clarson down, but the barrel of the gun at the back of his skull and Peter's shouted words halted him.

"MOVE A MUSCLE, AND I BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT JUST LIKE YOU DID TO MATTE. THEN I'LL DO THE SAME TO YOUR DOCTOR."

* * *

_**Toronto General – Security Room**_

The sound of gunfire through his headset and Greg's soft, "Active shooter on the roof," had Ed on his feet and racing for the stairwell as he responded, "On my way. Spike, Lou, feed us details when you find out who we are dealing with."

"Copy," Lou responded, and he continued to sift through the hospital personnel files … grumbling that they had no method of filtering the online records by anything other than alphabetical and could only display four photos at a time on the screen.

Spike let out a groan. "Nothing is coming up in facial rec. Whoever he is, he doesn't possess a criminal record."

Lou clicked to present the next grouping, scanning four males, the last Ian Clacher. He clicked again, and his eyes went to the only male on the page. A grin grew. "Got him! Peter Clarkson." Clicking once more to open the employee details as Spike's fingers flew on his keyboard to search for records on the name, Lou relayed, "Clarkson is a recent hire. He works as general maintenance. Last employer listed is … CAF … he was in the military."

* * *

_**Toronto General – Roof**_

Exiting the door a few moments after the gunshot, Jules held a shield with one hand and her MP5 in the other. The sight before them, Sam face down on the roof with a pistol at the back of his head, caused her breath to seize in her lungs.

Wordy covered Boss and himself with his shield, MP5 aimed at the subject, worried the slightest noise might cause Sam's death. His gaze shifted to the man lying on his back, who must be Dr. Ferguson, noting the blood splattered on his face. His eyes returned to Sam, searching for a wound and found a little puddle of blood forming near Sam's bicep.

Hearing Ed, Lou, and Spike, Greg took a moment to assess his options. Although the situation was definitely in the red zone, if he startled the armed subject, he might fire, and Sam would not survive a point-blank range bullet to the brain. He latched onto the name … _Matt_ … the name of the man who Sam said he killed in the friendly fire incident. Greg wondered if this might be a buddy of Matt's or perhaps a family member since he didn't know Matt's last name.

Having a name now, Greg prepared to engage the subject but paused when Ed said, "On the eighth floor, almost to you. I'll take up a Sierra One position."

Unaware he was being observed, Peter lifted his boot and growled. "You don't deserve to live. You should've eaten a bullet after killing Ben." He stepped back and removed his gun from Sam's head. "Roll over. Do it, or I kill the doctor, and you know I will."

Greg, Jules, and Wordy all breathed a little easier as the subject withdrew the pistol and put a little distance between him and Sam. By no means was the situation contained, but at least Sam's death wasn't a certain outcome now if they had to shoot Clarkson … which they would if they couldn't resolve this without further bloodshed.

Sam grimaced as he rolled, his arm and leg both throbbing. Once on his back, he stared down the barrel of Peter's gun again but refused to show fear. He knew Peter wouldn't let them go, but he finally realized Dr. Ferguson's comments to Reba must've been some sort of distress signal the nurse would understand because he was Ferguson's only patient in Toronto. Stalling for time, hoping help would arrive before Clarkson followed through on his threat … which Sam had no doubt he would, he said, "Thought about eating my gun after Ben died."

"HE DIDN'T DIE, YOU MURDERED HIM."

Peter's accusation hit Sam hard. So many nights he questioned if he was a murderer … but he came to realize it was a tragic accident … one that shouldn't have happened. One that wouldn't have occurred if not for Clarkson's failure. Rage Sam had buried burst forth, "I WAS CLEARED TO FIRE … BY YOU, JACKASS! BENJAMIN MATTE, MY BEST FRIEND, MY BROTHER, IS DEAD BECAUSE YOU COULDN'T BE BOTHERED TO DO A FULL HEADCOUNT AFTER THE RECCY. YEAH, MY BULLET KILLED BEN, BUT YOU'RE THE MURDERER."

Greg couldn't wait any longer, and called out, "SRU, police, … lower your weapon."

Ed moved out onto the roof as Sam yelled. His stomach soured as heard Sam and viewed the gun pointed at Sam's face, but Ed couldn't allow emotions to impede him at the moment. Scanning, he found a sniper position off to the right of his teammates. Attaining his position just as Greg made their presence known, Ed said, "I have the solution."

Peter whipped his head towards the doorway, noting three officers. "STAY BACK, OR I SHOOT HIM NOW."

"I would like to resolve this without further harm to anyone, Mr. Clarkson."

"You know my name?" Peter gaped, but then refocused on Sam.

"Yes, and mine is Greg, Sergeant Greg Parker. I would like to help you if I can. Peter, can you tell me why you are here?"

"He's a murderer … he killed Matte … and he got away scot-free while ruining my life. He should've eaten a bullet. But no, the privileged little asshat is handed a prime job on SRU while I'm stripped of my rank and told I will never be promoted to command again. He murdered Ben and my career with the same bullet. He doesn't deserve to live."

"Boss, his military file is sealed other than he was honorably discharged three months ago." Spike then added, "Found an obituary for Benjamin Matte in the Toronto Sun newspaper. He was KIA about six months ago in Afghanistan. His military records are sealed too. I can try and get them unsealed, but it will take time."

Greg put his hand over his mouth as he whispered, "Okay." Lowering his left hand, Greg caught Sam's eyes boring into him, lingered a moment, hoped he could resolve this without anyone dying today, and refocused on the subject. "Peter, please lower the gun an let's talk about this. I don't want to be forced to shoot you. I want to help."

Sam turned his gaze to the SRU officers after Peter said he got a job with SRU. _What the hell? Those are the people from the photos Ferguson showed me._ His eyes connected briefly with the sergeant speaking to Clarkson. A strange sense of calm washed over him as he recalled the words he said to Ferguson when viewing Parker's picture. _Listens. Helps. Sarge. Connects._

Moving his gaze to the woman, Sam was surprised by her petite stature, but awed by her beauty and the intensity shining in her brown eyes. Her attention never wavered from Clarkson … nor did her MP5. Many new words popped into his head. _Capable … dynamite … small but packs a punch … Sexy sniper._

Shifting to the other man … flashes of images crossed his mind. Little girls running to the solidly built man and squealing Daddy as they wrapped their arms around him as he crouched to hug them … and a blonde woman hugging the man as he rose, and him kissing her cheek and smiling broadly. _Father. Husband … family man … kind … strong … honorable … Wordy._ The last thought confused Sam. _Wordy? Does he talk a lot?_

Sam tuned back in as Parker said, "So you believe Sam is responsible for your troubles?" He blinked. _How does he know my name? Oh, right, Reba must've told him._ His attention was drawn to Peter as he ranted.

"HE IS!" Peter roared, his gun waving at Sam. "He is the one who shot Ben. He should've recognized one of our own. But did he get demoted? No. I did. The Army is my life, and he stole that away from me when he blithely killed Matte. He never worked for anything in his life … handed his position in JTF2 because his father is General Badass. I worked hard, earned my position as sergeant … and with one bullet, this asshat blew away my career.

"I wasn't given any real choice. Stay and be a peon for the rest of my service with no chance of advancing into leadership roles, or take an early, honorable discharge. I was forced out when it was all Braddock's fault. He needs to pay for what he did to Ben and me. He should've been court-martialed, found guilty, imprisoned, and received a dishonorable discharge. But no … he walks free, and his daddy arranges a prime position for him with SRU … with your team."

Greg blinked at the last three words. _How does he know Sam's on my team?_

Sam's eyes whipped back to Parker. _His team?_

Ferguson remained still, but worried this revelation might wreak havoc with Sam … too much information too soon could disorient him … and add to that, being held hostage while being blamed for Ben's death … all not good.

A little slow on the uptake, Ed remembered something Steve said yesterday. _If you want a good candidate to replace the idiot before he gets someone killed, I can pass you Pete Clarkson's number._ Ed sucked in a breath. "Jesus, this is the guy who Steve recommended. Boss, I think perhaps Steve told Peter about Sam being on our team."

Bright flashes assaulted Sam, overwhelming him with a mass of imagery making him dizzy and disoriented. He squeezed his lids shut and pressed his palms to his eyes as a moan escaped. His stomach turned, and he rolled to his side as his abdominal muscles clenched and saliva filled his mouth, preparing to hurl.

His action was misinterpreted by Peter, who believed Sam tried to escape his punishment. He bellowed, "YOU'RE NOT GETTING AWAY WITH THIS!" His pistol raised aiming for Sam's head, his finger moving to the trigger.

**BANG! **

Blood sprayed Sam and Obidiah as Peter's lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

Sam's retching was the only sound on the roof for the space of seven seconds. Ed's sharp intake of breath spurred Jules, Wordy, and Greg into action.

Wordy moved towards their subject, kicking the gun away from Clarkson's hand and squatting to check his pulse … a customary yet unnecessary action with half the man's brain matter splattered on the concrete. "Subject neutralized," he reported for the autoscripter.

Greg went straight for Sam, pulling out a pressure bandage and calling out, "We need medical personnel up here now. Sam's been shot, and he is vomiting," as Jules went to Dr. Ferguson.

Obidiah shook off the delicate hands of Constable Callaghan as she asked if he were injured. He crawled over to Sam, shaking so badly he didn't think his legs would hold him.

Shifting with the psychologist, Jules helped Boss by taking over applying pressure to Sam's wound as Greg spoke soft, reassuring words to Sam while Ferguson pulled Sam's head in his lap after her teammate quit puking. Jules noted that though Sam's eyes opened, they were unfocused … distant … almost like he was someplace else.

Several people rushing out of the stairwell drew Jules' attention. She relinquished her hold as the hospital staff took over. She rose and backed away to give them room, and ended up standing beside Wordy, Spike, and Lou watching as the medical team moved Sam onto a backboard and strapped him down. She remained in place, silent like the rest of her team as they whisked Sam to the door and off the roof with Dr. Ferguson following.

Spike broke the silence, as he glanced over at Ed, who stood apart from them, observing protocol not to speak to anyone after a lethal shot. "Oh my god … we almost lost Sam … again."

Nodding, Lou released a heavy sigh, thinking the same, but said, "Is this why Sam left the military?"

Greg wanted to stop any supposition so said, "Sam was absolved in the friendly fire incident. He is not to blame. He was taking out targets 1500 meters away, sniping with a .50 cal after being cleared to fire … by Clarkson."

"No, you misunderstood. I agree … not Sam's fault." Lou peered at Boss and pointed to Clarkson. "This … him. Steve's animosity last night makes sense now. Sam likely had a target on his back … his own unit buddies blamed him. It wouldn't have been safe for him to stay even if he wanted to."

Jules sighed. "And we failed him too. If he remembers, Sam might not want to come back."

"One of us should go and check how Sam is … regardless of General Braddock's edict to stay away." Wordy shifted his weight. "I'll remain here until the unis arrive to take over the scene."

"I'll go," Jules offered. When Boss tried to counter her, she said, "Boss, you need to go with Ed to SIU, Spike and Lou can take care of our equipment. I'll talk to Dr. Ferguson … he may be willing to give me details on Sam."

Greg nodded. "Okay, but if he asks you to leave … do so without argument."

"Copy." Jules strode towards the door, followed by Lou and Spike.

.

* * *

**AN:** Look, no evil cliffy in this chapter ... evil muse must be on vacation.


	12. Aftermath of the Storm

**Aftermath of the Storm**

* * *

**AN:** Usually put my notes at the bottom, but **to the Guest reviewer** ... as noted previously, this story is not part of the BOL universe. It is a completely different take on Sam's backstory ... so, I gave his parents different names to make it clear it wasn't in the same series as BOL.

* * *

**_Toronto General – ER Waiting Room_**

Jules approached Dr. Ferguson, who sat in a chair with a red-stained, damp cloth dangling from his fingertips. His eyes never left the doors into the treatment area, and his expression was blank … and his face somewhat pale. She stopped on the fifth floor to retrieve the folder with the photos and note, intending to use returning them as the ice breaker.

Her lips forming a small O Jules exhaled then pursed her lips, preparing to disturb a man in deep thought. "Excuse me, Dr. Ferguson. I believe these belong to you."

Slow on the uptake, still in shock by the events. His mind processing watching a man's brains blown out in front of him … and Sam's actions … throwing himself on top of him to protect him. Unfocused eyes shifted upward as his fingers curled more tightly on the fabric he used to wipe Sam's blood off his face. "What?"

"The pictures … I took them from Sam's room. I needed to return them."

Obidiah's gaze shifted again to the hand holding out the manila folder. His gaze lingered, but he didn't reach for the file as flashes of Sam laying on the ground with the gun pressed to his skull came in unbidden. At that moment, Obidiah gained insight into the struggles many of his soldier patients dealt with daily. Events so horrible, which burned into his memory, would be difficult to put into a compartment ... but he must. He blew out a ragged breath and closed his eyes, wavering in his seat.

As the psychologist started to fall forward, Jules shouted, "A LITTLE HELP OVER HERE!" She caught him as he pitched forward, taking his weight and easing him to the ground and onto his back. _Shock. He's in shock_. She loosened his collar, and picked up his legs, positioning them on the chair he just vacated.

She crouched beside him and pressed her fingertips to his neck, noting a rapid pulse. As his eyes blinked open, Jules calmly said, "Rest. You passed out, but you're going to be alright."

Embarrassed, Obidiah tried to rise. "I'm fine."

Jules pressed her hand on his shoulder. "Help is coming. Please stay down. The events you witnessed are quite disturbing, and your reaction is normal."

"I should be able to handle this."

"Hmm … yeah, no. Theory is one thing … seeing something like that isn't normal … your body's reaction to the adrenaline crash is. Happens to the best of us. Is there anyone you would like me to contact, for you?"

Obidiah's hand reached out for hers, and he squeezed. "Thank you, but no, Officer Callaghan."

Jules nodded. "What about for Sam? I don't have his mother's or father's numbers, but if you want, I can look them up and tell them what happened."

"Again … thanks, but I'll take care of calling them as soon as I find out how Sam is doing. No need to worry Audrey excessively unless needed and no one needs Warren on the warpath."

As he finished a doctor and nurse rushed out from the back. Jules stood and backed out of the way as they assessed Ferguson. Within ten minutes he was back in the chair, a cup of cold apple juice in his hands and a cool rag on his neck. His coloring much better, and his pulse rate returned to normal.

Jules took a seat next to him. "If you don't mind, I would like to wait with you. I'm worried about Sam too." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs, clasping her hands, interlacing her fingers and setting her chin on her knuckles as she exhaled heavily again. "I still can't believe I forgot him at Brighton. I'm not sure what I was thinking … clearly I wasn't."

She turned her head, resting her cheek on her hands, making eye contact. "I'm so ashamed of myself. I would never knowingly hurt someone … especially not a teammate. It is no excuse, but the only thing I can think of is the excessive heat played a role. If I could go back and change my actions … I would."

Obidiah nodded and maintained her gaze. "I've read the after action report. Heat exposure and assumptions are my conclusions too. I don't believe any of you acted out of malice. An accident … one which could've been deadly, and certainly has some ramifications for Sam, but an accident nonetheless."

Sucking her lower lip into her mouth, Jules chewed on the words for several moments. "Do you think Sam will get his memory back?"

"Issues with our minds and memories are always tricky. Though he did recall some things when I showed him pictures of your team … his team."

"Like what?"

Keeping his face neutral and his words too, Obidiah said, "Oh, words which probably equate to the impressions he formed of each of you."

Jules' face fell. "Probably called me a witch or worse. I drew my gun on him the first time we met. I wasn't very nice to him the second time either when Holleran brought him to our table at the retirement party and introduced him, telling us he would be on our team."

A grin formed on Obidiah's face. "You shouldn't assume."

Her face scrunched up. "Huh?"

"You were wrong when you assumed Sam went with your sergeant. You're wrong now too."

"Really?"

"Yes. Sam is a wonderful man who looks for the best in people … he usually finds it. His words … which I won't share, were all positive. After the thing on the roof, you're aware of why he left JTF2. Ben Matte was Sam's best friend. Being the one to fire the fatal shot tore him up. He's trying to rebuild his life … find a new purpose … make a difference. I believe he was making progress with SRU."

Her eyes moved to the folder. "So the note, it isn't a suicide note?"

Obidiah shook his head. "Sam read a book on how to cope with grief, and he was doing something it suggested to rid himself of negative thoughts. They weren't meant to be read by anyone."

"Good … cause, well, I don't want him to die. I want him to be alright physically and to rejoin the team." Tears sprouted in Jules' eyes, and she hastily wiped at them. "This is selfish, but I want another chance to show him he belongs, and who we really are … that he is a member of our team … family. I want to get to know him better. I want a chance to say yes the next time he asks me to grab a burrito and a beer after work." She chuckled. "I want to beat him in accuracy and speed on the gun range. He is an excellent sniper, and I could learn a lot from him."

"Sam pegged you right."

"He did?"

"Yes."

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"No. Patient confidentiality. But I will say … you might get what you want. Sam possess a kind heart, and he doesn't hold grudges. And he fully understands regret and remorse associated with accidents."

Jules nodded. "I'm sure he does given what happened with his friend."

A long silence stretched between them as they waited for word on Sam. Jules was grateful the doctor shared a little with her and didn't ask her to leave. She was about to offer to get him another beverage when a doctor exited the ER and strode towards Dr. Ferguson. They both rose and waited.

Dr. Sawyer halted and took a glance at the constable before returning his gaze to Ferguson. "Would you like to speak in private?"

"No. Here is fine. This is Constable Callaghan, one of the officers who saved Sam and me."

His brow rose, but Sawyer didn't add, one of the people General Braddock wanted to flay alive for forgetting his son. "Sam is stable. The bullet gouged his bicep and required a few sutures, but overall isn't going to cause him problems. We had to redo about half of his external stitches on his leg, but again, he is lucky. I don't believe further damage occurred.

"I will be keeping him overnight instead of releasing him as planned today. Mostly to ensure he is properly hydrated and medicated. Should we move him to a different room? I don't want to trigger any, well, bad memories."

Obidiah considered the option and said, "A new room might be beneficial. If possible, I would like to visit with him before he goes up, and I need the room number so I can communicate the change with Mrs. Braddock."

"Certainly. He is awake, though a little groggy … I upped his pain meds slightly. If you follow me, I'll take you back." Sawyer turned to the constable. "I'm afraid you won't be allowed back. Standing orders from General Braddock."

"I understand." Jules set a hand on Dr. Ferguson's arm. "Thank you for talking with me, and for allowing me to find out how Sam is doing."

Obidiah patted her hand. "Maintain hope things will sort themselves out. Don't sell Sam short."

"I won't." Jules stood still as the two men moved towards the doors. She puffed out a breath, causing her bangs to flutter. Pivoting, Jules spotted the file sitting on the chair. She picked it up, determining she would return it later.

* * *

_**SRU Barn – Briefing Room**_

Spike's knee bounced as he waited for Boss, Ed, and Jules to return. He, Lou, and Wordy remained quiet around the table for the last thirty minutes, each lost in their thoughts … replaying the events on the roof. Though he didn't see what happened, he heard everything. Wordy had described how Clarkson had Sam on his stomach with the pistol to his head, and he could readily imagine the scene.

Unable to remain silent any longer, Spike said, "This is so messed up. Geez, I asked Sam the first night I met him about how many Taliban he took out. And I didn't pick up on his deflection. I only thought he had a sense of humor. But now, finding out he accidentally killed his best friend while sniping targets … I feel like crap."

Wordy shook his head. "Don't beat yourself up over something you didn't know … couldn't know."

Lou slumped in his chair. "I can't imagine how Sam must feel." His gaze turned to Spike. "If I shot you … even if you didn't die … God, I could never forgive myself. I'm surprised Sam is even sane."

"Guys, stop. Please." Wordy squeezed the water bottle in his hands a bit too tightly, and liquid surged out of the top. He scooted back before it could attack his cool pants. Rising, he intended to grab paper towels from the breakroom to clean up his mess but stopped as Jules, Ed, and Greg approached together. "How'd SIU go?"

Ed rubbed the back of his neck. "Fine. Ruled a good shoot." He peered at Wordy. "Clean hands."

Nodding, Wordy resumed his seat and used his sleeve to wipe up the spilled water.

Greg took his place at the front of the table and scanned his team. "You did well today under very difficult circumstances. You maintain professionalism in the face of something quite personal." A flash of Sam on the ground running through his mind caused Greg to close his eyes and breath to center himself. Re-opening, he continued, "Though we desired a different outcome, Mr. Clarkson gave us no alternative.

"I've spoken to Holleran, and after we debrief, we're off shift. He wants us to speak with Dr. Luria as well."

"Why?" Ed asked. "I don't need to talk to her. Clarkson was going to kill Sam, and I took the shot. Clear cut. Nothing I'm going to lose sleep over."

"Eddie." Greg sighed and sat. "This isn't about neutralizing a subject. It is about the whole situation. Our actions put Sam in a vulnerable position, and he wasn't able to defend himself against a threat. And it put an innocent man, Dr. Ferguson in the cross-hairs too. Sam almost died today … because we forgot him."

Ed stood and paced. "No. No. Today isn't on us. Yeah, Sam was hurt. And yes, defending himself was difficult, but Clarkson is the one to blame. If not today, he could've caught Sam unaware on another day."

Spike pipped in, "What about your friend Steve?"

"Not a friend anymore."

"But he recommended Clarkson. I heard him at the bar. I wonder how Clarkson found out Sam was in the hospital. I mean, maintenance guys don't have access to patient records," Lou countered.

Greg put up a hand. "None of this is helpful conjecture. One reason Dr. Luria will be meeting with each of you in the next two days. We may never find out how Clarkson discovered Sam was a patient, but we do know he blamed him for both Matte's death and the loss of his military career."

"Wish we knew how Sam was doing," Wordy said.

"Jules, … were you able to find out?" Greg asked.

"Yes. Dr. Ferguson allowed me to remain with him after he passed out." At their confused expressions, Jules related her conversation with the psychologist and Dr. Swayer's prognosis.

"Are those the photos?" Spike reached for the folder.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well, I'm wondering if Sam needs protection from any other lunatics. Steve appears to blame him just like Clarkson for Ben's death. I think I should try to identify the unknown men and ensure they aren't targeting Sam also." Spike began flipping through the snapshots and stopped on Steve's when another thought popped into his head. He picked it up and showed it to Ed. "Like Steve … he might blame Sam for Clarkson's death now too. He might seek revenge."

Ed shook his head. "Steve can be a jerk … but I don't think he would target Sam because Clarkson died while trying to murder Sam."

Jules arched her brows. "He might if he's been drinking. We all saw the change in the man at the bar. He was not thinking and was out of control while inebriated."

"She's right," Lou input.

Greg again put a stop to them. "Holleran will be briefing General Braddock on the situation. I assume he will make necessary inquiries into any other potential threats to his son after learning of Clarkson's involvement."

"Don't assume. That's what put us in this position in the first place and nearly killed Sam," Jules declared.

"Right. I'll ask Holleran to include your thoughts in his conversation with the general and put a bug in Inspector Stainton's ear also since he will be taking Sam's statement tomorrow." Greg opened the transcript. "Let's start the review."

* * *

_**Toronto General – Room 608**_

Sam continued to stare out the window. His gaze had not moved for the last three hours, and he had not spoken a word to Dr. Ferguson or his mother. He didn't want to talk … or think … or feel. Yes, Ben's death still haunted him, and his ordeal this morning wasn't great, but what bothered Sam most is he now recalled everything from his missing months.

He remembered the last hot call ... the cramped spacing of the ductwork, which felt like an oven, slowly roasting him. His abject failure to stay hydrated and recognize signs of heat exhaustion. His stupid move dislodging a partition covering an old vertical shaft, and then falling down the chute. The most embarrassing part … admitting to Sarge, he got himself stuck in a vent. Apparently, he blacked out after that because he didn't recollect his rescue ... only waking up in the hospital with preventable injuries.

No wonder his mind blocked out his memories … he made a real ass of himself again. The first time he screwed up was when he talked to Jules, said a lady sniper was kinda sexy and told her he carried a pearl-handled Colt. He was lucky she didn't shoot him when he reached into his pocket ... dumbass move on his part.

Next, on his very first day with Team One, he sends the donor heart inside, and Wordy took one in the vest. Then the fiasco with the drug dealer warrant … where a kid died. He further displayed his ineptness when he swam out to put the listening device on the boat. He heard Ed … yeah, not a swimmer.

Then the whole negotiation practice scenario where he couldn't get it right and lost his cool, yelling at Lou he wouldn't give him coke. And later the same day, questioning Sarge about negotiation like he was some expert. Well, he knew what an expert was … at least the definition his father used. An _ex_ is a _has been_, and a _spurt_ is a _drip under pressure_. Maybe he was an expert based on that definition ... a has been who fails under pressure. It had been humiliating when Ed told him Boss wrote the manual he was quoting.

Damn, he needed to learn to listen better and quit screwing up.

"Sam, are you hungry? I'll bring you anything you want to eat for lunch." Audrey shared a glance with Obidiah, worried sick by Sam's lack of response. She canceled their flight and booked her hotel for another week, on the off chance he might need to stay longer than Dr. Sawyer initially predicted.

Obidiah stood. "Sam, we're going to go down to the cafeteria and give you a little space."

Audrey whispered, "Is that safe?"

Sam overheard but didn't reply.

"Yes, Audrey. As I told you, Sam isn't suicidal … he only needs time to think." Ferguson held out his hand to Audrey.

_Or not to think. _Sam heard their steps approaching the door, and surprised himself as he said, "I want to talk to my team."

Audrey's eyes rounded as she looked from Obidiah to Sam and back to Obidiah.

"Alright. When?" Obidiah asked as Audrey gave him the evil-eye, clearly unhappy with him agreeing.

"Today … after they're off shift."

"Okay. I'll make the request." He ushered Audrey out of the room and shut the door before she could say anything. He would explain to her that moving forward needed to be on Sam's terms. And the fact he used 'my team,' boded well. He wasn't sure if Sam recalled them or it was Clarkson's words, but whatever it was, Sam needed to be the one to make decisions which affected him … he needed to be the one in control regardless of how much Audrey and Warren wanted to protect him.

Sam sighed and dropped his eyes to his lap. Greg, Ed, Wordy, Lou, Spike, and Jules. He owed his life to them … to Ed's Scorpio shot. Clarkson would've killed him and Dr. Ferguson if not for all of them doing their utmost best to try to resolve the situation peacefully. Sadly, Peter was beyond their help or reason … another causality of the bullet that killed Ben.

Pain ripped through his heart, and silent tears trickled down his cheeks, unchecked. _Will they want me as a teammate now that they know the truth about me?_

.

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**AN:** I think there is another chapter or two to go before this story wraps up. I do enjoy reading your reviews. Thanks to those that take a few moments to tell me what you thought of the chapter.


	13. Revelations, Vulnerability, & Exhaustion

**Revelations, Vulnerability, and Exhaustion**

* * *

_**Toronto General – Sixth Floor Private Conference Room**_

Greg waited for his team after receiving a text from Commander Holleran to report to the hospital and go to the private consultation room on the sixth floor. He was the first to arrive, and he ran through many possibilities … some good, and some bad, but stopped his conjecture since it didn't settle his mind. Better to wait to see what was up.

Pushing the door open, Ed peered at Greg. "Do you know why we're here?"

"No. I'm sure we'll be told as soon as everyone arrives."

"I hope Sam hasn't taken a turn for the worse." Ed paced, unable to sit … worry spiked when he got the text … one that left the field wide open.

Several minutes later, Jules entered at the same time as Wordy, having ridden up the elevator together after meeting at the front entrance. Both read Greg and Ed and realized no info would be forthcoming from either, so took seats to wait … impatiently.

Spike burst into the room with concern written all over his face. "Is Sam, alright? Did someone else go after him?"

"Relax, Spike." Greg put a hand on his shoulder. "I don't believe that is the case."

Blowing out a breath and raking fingers through his hair, Spike nodded. "Yeah, wasn't thinking. Another Team would be here if that happened. So what's up?"

"I'd like to know too," Lou said as he strolled in wearing shorts and a sweaty t-shirt. He got the text while at the boxing gym, needing to work out his frustrations over this whole affair. Angry with himself for not being a better teammate to Sam. He had been reviewing how they all treated Sam, especially the first time they ran him through negotiation scenarios … none of them had coached him … only taunted him.

"Join the club," Ed ground out as he stopped and stared at a piece of abstract artwork on the wall. It just looked like some five-year-old spilled paint and did a poor job of wiping it up. He wasn't the artsy type … that was Sophie … Clark got his musical talent from her too.

Everyone turned when the door opened again, and Dr. Ferguson entered. He took a moment to scan the members of Sam's team before addressing them. "Thank you for coming. Commander Holleran indicated you are off shift, but I don't believe Sam expected you this soon."

When Ed started to open his mouth, Obidiah put up a hand. "Please, hold your questions. First, let me express my thanks for your efforts this morning. I have had time to consider the ramifications of arriving earlier than I planned. Mr. Clarkson appeared surprised to find me in the room and made a comment I wasn't supposed to be there until eight thirty, and he expected Sam to be suicidal … which he is not.

"I wondered for a while how Clarkson would've come by that knowledge. Mrs. Braddock reminded me we spoke in the hallway near the staff lounge last evening. She shared her concerns with me after finding some worrisome items in his hotel room, including the letter Sam wrote to Ben. The one Ms. Callaghan found in the folder. I told Sam's mother I would be by at eight thirty. I bid her goodnight, and she entered the breakroom to grab Sam a treat.

"While in there, she noted a plumber working on the sink. From her description, it was Mr. Clarkson. Our poor choice to speak in the hall provided Clarkson with the information he needed to go after Sam. He planned to kill Sam in his room and make it appear he took his own life … thus getting away with murder."

Obidiah took a breath to allow them time to absorb what he shared thus far. "Audrey is extremely distraught she played a role. I assured her she isn't at fault. She had no way of knowing Clarkson worked here or that he held significant animosity for Sam. Nor is she responsible for Clarkson's actions. The man made his choices and sadly paid the price.

"Mrs. Braddock wanted to express her gratitude to all of you for saving her son. She would be here in person, but as I said, this whole ordeal took a toll on her, and she is resting this afternoon per my advice. As for Sam, I'm not sure what he recalls or not. He has been quiet since being moved to his new room.

"I request that you go easy and slow with Sam since he is still somewhat groggy from heavy-duty pain medication. Allow Sam to guide the conversation. I will remain here to allow you to work things out as a team, but please get me if Sam needs my help. Okay, I've said my piece … do you have any questions?"

Greg scanned his team, noting the slight shakes, so he said, "No. Thank you for the information regarding how Mr. Clarkson became aware of Sam's presence here."

"Tomorrow, Mrs. Braddock will give a formal statement for the record, as will I."

As Boss and Ferguson spoke, Spike reviewed what the psychologist shared and honed in on an item which concerned him. "Doctor, I have a question."

"Yes."

"Sam is living in a hotel? Why?"

"Perhaps you might want to pose your question to him?"

Wordy picked up on another tidbit after Spike asked about the hotel. "What other items concerned his mother? You only listed the letter. Is there anything we need to be concerned about … I mean for his safety."

Ferguson peered at Wordsworth, noting Sam's impressions seemed to be correct again. "No, I do not believe so. Though, perhaps …" he trailed off not wanting to break patient confidentiality.

"Perhaps, what?" Ed asked.

Having discussed the team members at length with Holleran to ascertain if returning to Team One would be in Sam's best interests, he decided to share one item. "Perhaps you as a team might want to present him a small welcome gift … a tangible token, letting him know you want him to stay on the team."

"Like what? You seem to have something particular in mind." Jules waited, hoping she inferred correctly.

"Sam owns a Colt, given to him by his father or grandfather, I can never recall. It could use a safer place to reside than his nightstand."

Lou let out a low whistle. "He's staying in a hotel and left a gun on the bedside table. Please tell me it is unloaded."

Obidiah shook his head. "He has been dealing with so many emotions, overwhelmed at times, exhausted by constant turmoil as he tries to rebuild, he has not been making the best choices. His mother indicated the hotel manager said Sam asked that housekeeping not to enter his room and they abided by his wishes.

"I didn't have a chance to ask Sam about why it is loaded and its position, but I have many soldiers as patients, and when they first return from deployment, there are habits that are hard to break. Having a loaded weapon for protection within ready reach is one of the more common ones. But Sam isn't in the field now, and you could help him with taking a step in the right direction."

Greg sighed. "We will. Thank you for your openness. We have amends to make."

"I won't keep you any longer then. Sam is in room six-o-eight." Ferguson took a seat, and the six exited.

* * *

_**Toronto General – Room 608**_

Fighting the pull of sleep, his mind exhausted from berating himself for all his failures and wishing like hell Ben was here for him to talk to, Sam's lids kept lowering. But every time they closed, images assaulted him. Nightmares would be a sure thing tonight, and to avoid them, he might just claim to be in more pain than he was so they would dope him up on the good stuff … at least enough so he didn't wake screaming like a banshee.

His eyes moved to the lunch his mom sent up … not hospital fare. It was from his favorite restaurant. Though the burrito smelled enticing, he had no desire to eat … didn't think he could keep anything down. Thoughts of being the reason Dr. Ferguson almost died this morning kept his stomach churning as did what he would say to the team when they arrived.

He sighed. _At least I have several more hours before they are off shift. Perhaps I'll come up with the right words by then._ Turning his gaze to the window again, Sam didn't acknowledge the door opening, expecting it to be his new nurse. He sort of missed Reba … although efficient, the new one wasn't as pleasant.

When no one approached his bed, Sam turned towards his door. He blinked. _They are here … already. Shit._ He sucked in a breath as they moved forward as a silent unit and stood in a semi-circle near the end of his bed. Sam moved his eyes from Sarge, Ed, Wordy, Lou, Spike, and stopped on Jules. Unable to form words, Sam only stared, waiting for one of them to speak.

Spike wanted to blurt out he was sorry but held his tongue because Dr. Ferguson said to let Sam lead the way.

The awkward silence dragged out so long that in the end, everyone in the room started to speak at once. They all stopped, not understanding the mix of words, then again spoke over each other. Greg put a hand up towards the standing members of his team to halt them, and turned to Sam. "You first. Whenever you are ready, take whatever time you need … no rush."

Sam drew in another long breath and released it on a four-count to settle his racing heart. Gaining courage, he focused on Greg. "I'll understand if you want me off the team. I'm a screw-up… and now you all know."

"WHAT THE HECK? NO, YOU AREN'T!" Spike blurted out.

Ed gave Spike a stern glare. "Spike, let Sam speak. You'll have your turn." He turned his blue eyes on Sam, wanting to interrupt himself, but he would abide by the psychologist's request. Because, quite frankly, they had all failed at listening to Sam and that needed to change if they were going to repair their team.

Sam's gaze locked on Ed's. "I told you what happened, and it was never a secret … just not something I'm proud of … I should've known it was Ben. I screwed up that day and killed my best friend. Ben Matte and me had been buddies since high school. I miss him every day."

Jules slowly moved forward, unconsciously wanting to be closer to assuage his pain and grief. She stopped when her hip touched his bedside. Her brown eyes connected with his blue orbs and she had to forcefully stop herself from reaching out to hug him.

Sam swallowed hard. _Jules is beautiful … sexy … everything I want in a woman._ He pushed his thought away, inhaling deeply through his nose and breaking contact with her, moving to peer at Wordy. "My first day with SRU, I almost got you killed when I sent up the heart." Shifting to Lou, he said, "I can't negotiate myself out of a wet paper sack."

Lou bowed his head as he murmured, "That isn't on you. We didn't mentor you."

His gaze turned back to Greg. "I questioned you, Sarge. I didn't know shit, and I believed you were wrong with your call with George. I screwed up at Brighton too. I should've recognized I was overheated, made sure I hydrated, watched my foot placement. So I understand if you don't want me on the team. You didn't choose me … you got stuck with me. My dad pulled some strings … and I went with it, because well, I couldn't go back to JTF2 after killing Matte.

"No one trusted me afterward. Well, a few, but they were my only friends besides Ben. Most of them believed the general paved my way into JTF2. They might be right … sort of … I should've washed out of the swimming portion, but somehow passed. Ben said they probably wanted me for my marksmanship skills, and there wasn't much need of swimming a desert.

"Thanks for saving me this morning … and Dr. Ferguson. And for getting me out of the vent. I wish things were different … I wanted something different, but I guess I don't have what it takes to wear the cool pants. I'm a one trick pony. All I'm good at is taking out targets.

"So, yeah, that is what I wanted to say. Thanks for letting me be a part of your team for a little while, and saving my life … twice, and I'll clean out my locker as soon as they release me from the hospital." Sam lowered his eyes to his lap, the sheet becoming his only focus as silence again dragged on.

Ed, Lou, Wordy, Spike, and Jules all shared glances … none quite knowing how to respond. Their guilt surged forth, Sam's current despondency weighing heavily on their psyche. All their gazes then turned as one to the man they all trusted to find the right words for them. A man with insight and compassion, grit and determination, mentor and confidant, Boss and unofficial father or uncle of Team One … Gregory Parker.

Wanting to reach up and pull off his hat, a tick he developed in the field, but not having said hat, Greg moved a little closer to Sam whose eyes remained downcast. Sam's exhaustion apparent to even the most unobservant person … shoulder's slumped, the way his lids kept lowering. And Greg was aware Sam was on strong medication. He also gleaned from Sam's words an unusual vulnerability … one which appeared to be foreign to the young constable.

Though Greg could understand why, especially given all Sam endured since his best friend's death, and this morning would shake even the sturdiest of people to the core. A soft smile formed. This brash former soldier would beat the odds because he possessed an inner strength. And because six hearts wouldn't let him fall into the abyss.

The thought of hearts brought the pink fishing rod to mind. Sam's first call set a tone, one he was not proud of, and one Ed berated himself over. And in recent days, Jules shared in confidence she wished she had not asked for a coffee and intervened, and Spike came to him and admitted he only laughed instead of stepping up to mentor Sam as everyone had for him when he joined.

Greg closed the distance and set his hand on Sam's shoulder, surprised when he didn't flinch or acknowledge him at all. Pitching his voice soft, Greg said, "You are tired to the bone, Sam. If you want, we can talk later, when you're rested."

Sam turned to Greg, his weariness showing. His voice hitched, "Just tell me … if I'm off the team."

The single tear which slipped out of Sam's soulful eyes undid Greg almost entirely. Some might question his move, believe it too personal, but at that moment, Greg knew beyond a shadow of a doubt his action to be right, to be what Sam desperately needed. He pulled Sam to his chest, tucked Sam's head into the crook of his shoulder and wrapped his arms around the anguished young man.

While embracing Sam, Greg whispered, "You are a member of Team One and shall remain one if you choose. Rest now. Sleep, we'll be here when you wake." His eyes met Jules' across the bed as the coiled tension began to ease out of Sam's body, and he noted welled tears in her brown eyes as she hugged herself … almost as if she wanted to be the one holding Sam.

Greg maintained his hold, but would let go if Sam pulled back … he didn't. After several minutes, the soft breath on his neck evened out and the greater weight leaning against him indicated Sam slipped off to sleep. He sustained the contact for several more minutes, and after he gently lay a sleeping Sam back on his bed, he turned and found all eyes on him.

Ed's voice came out gruff with emotion, yet soft so he didn't wake Sam, "We … I … hurt him and need to fix this."

Keeping his voice low, Greg said, "We will."

As Sam slept, the others milled around the room. Spike found a perch on the window sill and gazed out at the city. Jules never left her spot beside Sam's bed. Greg pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat. Wordy stood at the end of the bed, his hands gripping rail with white knuckles. Lou sank to the floor in a corner, and Ed paced like a caged lion.

One hour turned into two, then three, and by the fourth hour, Sam's nurse had come and gone a few times, checking his vitals and wounds. Dr. Ferguson popped his head in, took stock of the situation, smiled, and told them he would check back later. And Sam never once stirred, so Team One settled in for the long haul, willing to wait, no matter how long Sam slept.

.

* * *

**AN:** Sam is a little OC, as my beta reader noted, but that is on purpose. Who wouldn't be off-kilter after all Sam went through, and add in pain meds and exhaustion ... well, insecurities are bound to pop out. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next up will be their talk plus a few more things, but don't want to give them away.


	14. Confessions Are Good For The Soul

**Confessions Are Good For The Soul**

* * *

_**Toronto General – Room 608**_

After six hours, several coffees, a few trips to the bathroom, six members of Alpha Team continued to wait for their seventh member to rouse from a necessary and healing slumber. When the nurse brought in Sam's covered dinner plate and left it on the rolling table, Lou and Spike took orders from everyone and stepped out to bring back food.

As Spike pushed open the door upon returning, he let out a sigh, he had hoped Sam would be awake by now but resigned himself to wait for as long as it took. He carried in several bags, while Lou carried two trays filled with each person's favorite coffee beverage. They passed out the food and drinks and set one sack and an iced capp on Sam's table.

"What did you bring Sam?" Jules asked as she unwrapped her burrito.

"Same thing he had for lunch … 'cause no one likes hospital food," Spike replied.

"What if he didn't eat his lunch because he didn't like the burrito?" Wordy sank his teeth into his taco with a satisfying crunch.

"Nah … he got one of those the last time he patrolled with Lou and me. He likes spicy foods." Spike sank to the floor, crisscrossing his legs and unrolling the foil covering his steak burrito.

Everyone tucked into their meals, keeping their conversation light and soft.

Aromas wafted up Sam's nostrils as he inhaled, the alluring spices pulling him up from the depths of his sleep and out of his dreams. His lashes began to flutter, lifting only slightly and falling several times as he roused more fully. Sam shifted his leg, and his eyes flew open as pain radiated up and down his limb. He sucked in a breath and reached for it, causing sharp pain in his arm when he used the injured one. "Shit … OW … dammit … argh." His face scrunched up, revealing his level of pain as he began to pant to gain control.

Team One flew to their feet, their food forgotten. Closest, Jules grabbed his call button and pressed it with one hand as her other came to rest on his shoulder. "Sam, Sam … relax. I buzzed the nurse."

Spike sprinted out the door towards the nurses' station, not waiting for someone to respond … Sam needed relief now, and he was gonna make sure he got it as fast a humanly possible.

Through squinted eyes, Sam peered at Jules. Confusion flickered over his features for a moment followed by comprehension as the events of this morning and afternoon flooded back in. Drawing in several ragged breaths, Sam lay back, allowing his arm to fall to his side as he rode the waves of pain.

Spike hurried in followed by the nurse who went directly to her patient. "Mr. Braddock, are you in need of pain meds?"

"What the hell do you think? Look at his face!" Ed nearly shouted.

"No need to be rude." Stella pinned the bald man with a glare before turning to Sam. "Let me check your id." She ensured all data matched and then produced a syringe, and after cleaning the port, she administered the medication followed by a saline wash. "In a few minutes, you should be feeling much better."

Sam nodded, and through gritted teeth said, "Thanks."

Stella peered at the men and woman who had not left the room all afternoon and evening. Focusing on the one she deemed as in charge she said, "Visiting hours are over in one hour. Don't make me chase you from his room. Mr. Braddock needs rest."

"Yes, ma'am, we won't be a problem," Greg answered for all of them, realizing her demeanor was in reaction to Ed's earlier comment. Pissing off the nursing staff was never a smart move.

Turning back to her handsome patient, Stella smiled. "If you need anything, press the call button."

Nodding again, the meds beginning to take the edge off, Sam relaxed his jaw and blew out a long breath. As his nurse left, Sam scanned the room, surprised the team was still here when he noted the time on the clock … a quarter past seven. Recalling he fell asleep while Greg hugged him, Sam's cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment.

They all noted the change, but ignored it, each accurately comprehending the reason for Sam's blush, and all believing he had nothing to be embarrassed about.

Jules broke the silent tension with a smile as she picked up the burrito Spike brought for him and started to unwrap it. "It's about time I have a burrito and beer with my teammate … well, burrito only at the moment, 'cause you can't have beer yet." She held it out, hoping he might take it as a peace offering.

The choice of Jules' words were not lost on Sam. Starving, having only eaten breakfast today, with his uninjured arm, he reached for it. "Thanks."

"Spike's the one who knew what you liked and decided to bring one for you too," Jules confessed as she slid his table closer to him.

"Remembered you like iced capps too." Lou pointed to the one on the table. "That one is yours."

An uneasy yet not altogether uncomfortable peace filled the room as they all resumed eating. When Sam was almost done with his burro, his hunger sated, he asked, "Why are you still here?"

Greg crumpled his wrapper and tossed it into the bag. "I told you we would be."

Sam's head bobbed with recollection. He had not been himself when they entered before … in a bad headspace. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but Ed's words stopped him.

"Samo, you were not the one who screwed up. We were. Brighton was not your fault, and neither was Ben's death." Recognizing the rebuttal forming in Sam's expression, Ed continued. "It's true. Though hard for each one of us to stomach, we are to blame for what happened to you at Brighton. And although we want an opportunity to make it up to you and show you who we really are, we'll understand if you can't or won't work with us and wish to transfer teams."

Confusion lit Sam's features again. "You guys got me out of the vent. Getting stuck is on me … none of you opened the cover and pushed me in. None of you withheld water from me … those are my mistakes, and I own the outcome of them." He tapped his leg. "Serves me right for not paying attention and allowing myself to become dehydrated."

Wordy's voice hitched as he met Sam's gaze and held it. "There is something you don't know … something none of us are proud of … something which haunts my dreams … probably all our dreams. Sam, we returned to the barn to debrief. We all showered and changed. I stopped in the breakroom to grab cold water for everyone. I brought it in and passed it out. It wasn't until Boss entered and asked where you were that I … we … realized you hadn't returned with us. We forgot you … we left you in the vent for nearly an hour before we returned."

Spike's words wobbled, "You almost d-died cause we m-made as-assumptions. And because I failed to get a full set of blueprints which would've alerted you to the vertical vents."

"You were my partner … this is my fault. I assumed you went with Boss. I should've ensured you were safe. I failed you, and for that, I am eternally sorry." Jules swiped at tears welling in her eyes.

"I'm sorry too. We … me and Spike assumed you went with Jules and you showered so quick we didn't catch you in the lockers."

Greg stepped forward. "The responsibility is mine. Sam, I'm ashamed I allowed the way you joined the team to color my actions. And everything you believe you messed up on is on me. We threw you in the proverbial deep end without a life-jacket or teaching you how to swim. Literally, in one instance, when we made you swim to the boat to attach the listening device. I created a toxic environment for you … one in which I believe you did your utmost best to keep your head above water as we threw rocks at you instead of a lifeline."

When Greg paused, Ed added, "His I statements need to be we statements. As team leader, part of my job is to ensure the safety of all my officers … I failed you several times. I can think of several. My actions at the hospital with the heart transplant are disgusting. I treated you like a child, rather than having the patience to mentor you as I should.

"I never bothered to assess your strengths and weakness so I could use you where you would thrive while helping you develop skills which needed some work. I allowed Steve's words to color my judgment instead of talking with you. And worst of all, the one which sticks in my craw the most, is that after you went to SIU after having to take a lethal shot … I asked you to grab a drink because you deserved it."

Ed exhaled heavily. "I disregarded the fact you had taken a human life in a stressful situation and might need someone to talk to. I encouraged you to drink when that is the last thing any of us need after a lethal. And at the time, I failed to realize it was likely the first time you ended a life after Matte. You deserved better from me, and I'm truly sorry. If you can find it in your heart and mind to give us another chance, I promise not to make the same mistakes again."

Sam's eyes moved around the room, studying each one as he processed everything they shared. He stopped on Greg and Ed. "But I recall you asking for status … shortly after I got stuck."

"You must've blacked out because we were at the barn when we tried to ascertain your position." Ed sighed. "We screwed up, Sam, … not you."

"But you came to get me, right?"

"Yes. Ed and Lou went to your last known position. Jules crawled through the vents trying to locate where you got stuck and found you in the vertical shaft. Spike called a friend to look up old blueprints and discovered the owner didn't include the old vents on the revised plans for the renovation. They used glue on the panels to cover them, which melted with the excessive heat. The only thing which saved your life when you fell is they crimped the vent about twenty feet down to put in a brick façade in one of the offices. Wordy used the entry sledge to breakdown the wall before the fire crew arrived," Greg explained.

Sam didn't know what to think. He wanted a fresh start … but this … he had no clue how to respond. He swallowed a lump in his troat. "I need time to think."

Greg nodded, but Spike blurted out, "Sam, why are you living in a hotel?"

His eyes whipped to Spike. "How do you know where I live?"

"Um, well, Dr. Ferguson said … he … erm, when he talked to us and said you weren't suicidal … that your letter was … umm, only a way to deal with grief," Spike tumbled out.

"You read my letter?"

"NO!" Spike shook his head vehemently.

"I did," Jules confessed. "I searched your hospital room when Clarkson took you hostage. I found it and several photos in a folder. And I showed the note to Boss too."

Sam blew out a long breath and turned from Jules back to Spike. "I chose to stay in a hotel because I wasn't certain this would work out. No sense in signing a lease if … well, if I couldn't perform my job and got kicked off the team."

"Buddy, you do an awesome job! We want you to stay. Please stay. Please give us a chance to show you who we really are." Spike's eyes pleaded as much as his words.

"I need time to think. I got rehab in front of me … not sure I'll meet the physical requirements." He unconsciously flexed his left hand."

Greg stepped in. "Take all the time you need, Sam. Your spot will be open and waiting for you should you desire to return to the team. And if you want to remain in SRU, but not on our team, Holleran will shuffle things so you can. Though, like Spike, we all want you on Team One."

Everyone nodded as Sam peered at them.

"Are we allowed to come visit you tomorrow?" Spike asked.

"Allowed?" Sam wondered at the choice of words.

Wordy supplied the explanation, "Your father, General Braddock, forbade us to visit you. He is rightfully steamed we forgot you at Brighton. He indicated he would obtain restraining orders if we tried to speak with you or enter your room."

A lopsided grin flashed for the briefest second on Sam's face. "That explains why Mom was so peeved when Ed came into my room. I thought you might be military … someone associated with the friendly fire inquiry."

"Inquiry?" Lou asked.

"Yeah." Sam sighed. "Wasn't pleasant. Everyone in the unit, well almost everyone, blamed me. Ben and I joined them for one mission. Our second tour with our team was up, and we should've been on a plane home, but they needed a sniper and another man for recon. So we volunteered. Wish we hadn't.

"Clarkson was new to command … didn't follow procedures. He didn't ensure everyone was out of the target zone before giving me the all clear to fire and take out anyone in the compound. It was a tactical kill mission … not a snatch and grab.

Tears welled in Sam's eyes, and he let them fall as he cast his eyes to his lap, unable to meet anyone's gaze. "When we went to do the IDs … Ben was there. I shot him with a .50 cal from almost a mile away. The guys said I should've known it was Matte, but to do the recon, they donned indigenous garb. I never saw his face … if I had, I wouldn't have fired. I only saw one of my targets squirting, and I was under orders to execute them all. So I did.

"After I was cleared, they offered me an early exit because of the animosity many showed towards me. I essentially had a target on my back, especially after Clarkson was stripped of his rank and demoted back to Corporal. I didn't want to go back either. Killing isn't easy. Conceptually, I understand the necessity and reasons, but pulling the trigger from a mile away …. Death became familiar, but never easy.

"After Ben … I needed something different. To help people … to resolve conflicts without death if at all possible. My father presented me with the option of SRU, and I thought maybe, just maybe I might be able to make a real difference … find a new person to be … and perhaps find the joy in life again."

Jules slipped her hand into Sam's and lightly squeezed as a trail of tears glided down her cheeks. "Oh, Sam. You make a difference. I understand you need time to think … but keep in mind you have already saved people. Sadie's sister Rebecca is alive because you swam out into the harbor and placed the listening device."

Though she probably shouldn't, Jules gave in to her urge to hug Sam. She carefully wrapped her arms around him as she whispered, "I'm glad I didn't shoot you when we first met. I want you to stay. I'd like to get to know you … go for a burrito and beer after shift."

Sam's shocked eyes noted the guys were as surprised as him by Jules spontaneous gesture. When she released him and stepped back, he also noted her tear-tracks.

Ed cleared his throat. "Visiting hours are almost up. We should be going now, so you can rest."

Not to be deterred from his original question, wanting an answer, hoping it would be yes, Spike asked again, "So is it okay if we stop by tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Sure. Though I might be released in the morning."

"Are you going to your hotel?" Wordy inquired.

Sam shrugged. "Not sure now. Was planning on going to Ottawa … to my parent's home when I didn't have my memories. But now, I really don't know where I want to be."

"We'll come by in the morning then." An idea formed in Spike's mind, and he hoped Sam would go for it.

They took their leave, a bit awkwardly, and Jules was the last to exit. She stopped and turned back to Sam. She smiled and added, "Sweet dreams, Sam."

As the door closed, Sam let out a long sigh. He truly didn't know what to do. Should he stay or move on to something else entirely? Would they ever really accept him? Would he be able to make the necessary changes from JTF2 sniper to SRU constable? Would his leg heal … and hand … enough that he could perform his duties without being a liability? Would the general try to put his foot down if he wanted to rejoin Team One? How would his mom feel … did she blame them still?

So many questions swirled it was giving him a headache. If Ben were here, he could ask for his opinion … but then again if his best friend were still alive, Sam wouldn't be here … he would be in Ottawa preparing for his next deployment. Jules' last words came to mind, and Sam pressed his call button and waited for his nurse.

Entering, and glad to see Sam alone, so she didn't have to shoo out his visitors, Stella moved with efficiency to Sam's bedside. "How are you doing?"

"I'm hurting … bad." It wasn't entirely a lie. Emotionally, he was a wreck … hurting.

"I can give you another dose."

"Yeah, … I need it tonight."

"Back in a jiffy."

Sam closed his eyes … the stronger meds would help knock him out … and although his dreams wouldn't be sweet, at least he wouldn't wake screaming from his nightmares. When Stella returned, he gave her a wane smile and his thanks and when she left again, he used sniper breathing to slow his heart rate and calm himself while he waited for the meds to take effect. His last conscious thought before slipping into sleep was the tears on Jules' face and her plea for him to stay so they could go for a burrito and beer … and he would like to do just that with a sexy sniper chick.

.

* * *

**AN: ** Sorry for the long delay ... been more focused on my next novel and my SEAL FF ... because this chapter was difficult to write and I wanted it to have the right level of emotional angst. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	15. No One Will Forget Sam Again

**No One Will Forget Sam Again**

* * *

_**Six Weeks Later – Ottawa – General Braddock's Home**_

Sam chuckled as he viewed his phone.

"What's got you grinning?" Audrey asked as she prepared lunch.

Setting the phone down, Sam peered at his mom. "Another text from Spike."

Audrey's smile grew. Though Sam decided to come home to recuperate and rehab his leg, he kept in touch with his teammates, or more correctly they contacted him on a regular basis. And although Warren had been none to pleased with his son's decision to remain with SRU, he begrudgingly accepted Sam's choice last night. However, that didn't mean Warren wouldn't try at some point to lure Sammy back to the military if given half a chance.

Bringing the plates to the table, Audrey joined Sam. "What did he have to say this time?"

"Sent more pictures of apartments." Sam lifted his turkey sandwich and took a bite.

Audrey smiled. "He is bound and determined to find one you like at a reasonable cost."

"Yeah, he's certainly spending a lot of his time canvassing the area."

"Guess he wants you to stay. When are you going to tell them what you decided?"

Sam shrugged.

"Samuel Warren Braddock," Audrey used her scolding tone, "It isn't nice to leave them on tenterhooks. I raised you better."

"Mom, it isn't that I don't want to tell them. It's, well, until I know for sure I will requalify. I don't want to get their hopes up and then dash them if I don't get the all clear."

Audrey sighed and apologized, "I'm sorry. That is exactly the thoughtful behavior I expect from you. Has a date been set for your requalification?"

"Not yet, depends on whether or not Dr. Davidson signs off today. I'm pretty sure he will since I've regained full strength in my leg, and my hand has been tremor-free for over three weeks." Sam reached for his iced tea. "I'll call Commander Holleran to schedule once I know for sure."

"Okay. I have no doubt you will pass with flying colors. How about a bit of furniture shopping after your appointment?" She winked as she said, "No excuses about your leg being too tired to walk around the store."

Sam groaned but grinned. "Alright … but I'm planning on getting a small apartment … so maybe a bed and a chair."

"But you need all the essentials. You lived in base housing for years … you don't even own a coffeemaker. How can you survive without one?"

Sam laughed. "There's this wonderful invention … instant coffee."

Audrey's eyes widened in mock horror. "You wouldn't dare."

"What do you think I drank in Kandahar?"

Shaking her head, Audrey muttered, "The things you had to do without … shameful." She waggled a finger at him. "You're home now. Bed, chair, and coffee machine are on the list for sure."

"Sure, Mom." Sam finished his lunch as they discussed other essentials. In the past six weeks, he came to terms with his guilt though he would miss Ben always, forgave the team for forgetting about him at Brighton, and looked forward to starting over in Toronto. Ben would want him to move forward and rebuild his life. His best friend wouldn't want him to wallow in remorse … his sessions with Dr. Ferguson helped him recognize those things.

* * *

_**One Week Later – Toronto – Sam's Apartment**_

Sam poured coffee into his insulated cup and screwed on the lid. He turned and leaned against the counter, letting his gaze linger on the furnishings his mother helped him pick out … more than just a bed, a chair, and a coffeemaker. He was no longer a nomad … he had his first real place to call home, and all the trappings to go with it. Even real plates, glasses, and silverware … not paper and plastic ones.

Spike had found him the perfect location. Not too far from the barn, yet far enough that he could have some separation between work and home life. Inhaling deeply, a sparkle lit his eyes. One that hadn't been there for so many months … one which died the day he killed Ben. Exhaling gradually, he pushed off his counter and moved to the door, snagging his go-bag from the little island and slinging it over his shoulder.

In the hall, he stopped to lock his door, and his eyes stayed on the numerals attached to the entry … 1008. He chuckled, recalling Spike's eager expression as he explained why this was the perfect apartment for him. Apparently, 10-08 was the police code for _cleared, in-service, ready for assignment_. So, yeah, Spike had a point … this was exactly where he needed to be.

* * *

_**SRU Barn**_

Sam entered the building, running a little late, due to traffic, and he hoped Ed wouldn't be upset with him. Not the best foot forward to be tardy on his first day back with the team. He shifted his bag as he rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt, his eyes widening in surprise.

"WELCOME BACK!" resounded from all the SRU officers, dispatchers, and support personnel gathered around the dispatcher's desk. In the front, stood the members of Team One, all with broad grins.

Commander Holleran stepped forward, outstretching his hand. "Damn glad you decided to return, Braddock. SRU needs officers like you."

"Thank you, sir." Sam shook the commander's hand. When Holleran left, the other officers began to disperse, offering welcomes, thumbs up, or pats on the back or shoulder as they returned to their duties.

After the area emptied, Sam was left facing his six teammates, and he centered his gaze on his sergeant. "Sorry, sir, traffic."

Ed moved first, pivoting and striding into the briefing room as he said, "No workout this morning, come on."

Following the others, Sam wondered why Ed would cancel the pre-shift workout. He halted yet again with surprise as everyone took their regular seats. What astonished him was the chair in between Jules and Spike across from Ed, Wordy, and Lou had a sign on it. In bold black letters, it said, **Sam's** **Seat. **

Thoughts of the last time he had entered this room filled his mind. Sam never knew where to sit and didn't feel like he belonged, so he chose a chair at the far end of the table. The team was making a statement … one, he got loud and clear. A lopsided grin played on his face as he moved forward. He hung his bag on the back and sat.

Jules smiled as Sam took his seat beside her. They still had a few surprises for him; things they hoped would ensure he felt wanted.

Sam gaped at the food and beverages on the table and a cake with Welcome Back Sam, written in really squiggly red icing … like a three-year-old's writing. "Wow. Thanks."

"Shelly baked the cake, and Allie wanted to help, so Shel let her do the icing … with some assistance." Wordy grinned.

"She's three, right?"

"Yep."

"Tell her and Shelly thanks. They did an amazing job." Sam never had someone do something so special. Sure, on his birthdays, his mom made him a cake, but this was wholly unexpected.

Spike slid a paper cup to Sam. "Iced capp … just how you like it. I added your favorite to the Timmy's order for Team One, so whoever does the coffee runs will get yours too."

As Wordy began cutting the cake, Lou said, "We moved your locker. You're now in the same aisle as Spike and me and not off alone in the far aisle."

Ed pushed several books towards Sam. "There are some things we need to review … things I failed to cover with you before. We've also instituted a few changes to ensure no one is ever overlooked again. Assigned partners for each shift."

"Okay." Sam eyed the books on negotiation and almost cringed. He wasn't so good with words, but he would give it his all to learn … he needed something different than being only a point and shoot guy.

Greg smiled as he observed his team. They botched things up badly when Sam joined, but thankfully, they would get another chance to show him who they really were. Laughter filled the briefing room as everyone chowed down on cake and breakfast foods others had brought in for Sam's welcome back party.

An hour and a half later, Sam exited the men's locker room, dressed in his cool pants. He sauntered towards the briefing room, primed for his first shift. Jules came alongside him, and he grinned as her ponytail bounced with her energetic steps. He halted when her hand landed on his bicep.

"Hey, Sam."

"Yeah."

Jules sucked in her lower lip, hesitating a moment. "If you're up to it after shift, you want to go grab a burrito and a beer?"

His answer had to wait as the klaxon alarm sounded followed by Winnie's voice over the loudspeaker, "Team One, hot call, shots fired at Brighton Complex."

Jules and Sam shared a grimace before they both turned and hurried to gear up.

Commander Norman Holleran watched as the team rushed out to the SUVs. He grinned as Greg called out the day's partners, putting Sam with Jules.

Winnie peered up at the commander and smiled. "And then there were seven."

"What?" Norm gazed at the dispatcher.

"Team One … no one will forget Sam again … they are a team of seven now."

Norm nodded in agreement and silently repeated, "_And then there were seven."_

_._

* * *

**AN:** Apologies for the looong delay in wrapping up this story. My excuse is I was focusing on finishing WHITEOUT and starting a new book series.

I'm happy to announce ...

**WHITEOUT: Above and Beyond** (Beauty of Life, Book 10) is NOW AVAILABLE on Amazon in ebook and paperback.

_**During the storm of the century, who will go above and beyond? **_

_Constable Dan Broderick throws himself into work as he attempts to live with a broken heart. After several grueling months and coping with a call gone horribly awry, Dan plans his first real vacation in ten years. Wanting to reconnect with his cousin and further a friendship with his quirky teammate, he invites Scott and Loki along._

_**Eagerly anticipating fun on the slopes, what could go wrong?**_

**Search for LAURA ACTON on Amazon** to find all ten books in the Beauty of Life series. Available as ebooks or paperbacks, and if you subscribe to Amazon's Kindle Unlimited, you can read them for FREE. Visit Amazon to read the first few chapters of each book with their look inside feature.

\- FORSAKEN: On the Edge of Oblivion (Book 1)

\- SOLACE: Behind the Shield (Book 2)

\- BELONGING: Hope, Truth, and Malice (Book 3)

\- OUTLIER: Blood, Brotherhood, and Beauty (Book 4)

\- PURGATORY: Bonds Forged in Hellfire (Book 5)

\- SERENITY: A Path Home (Book 6)

\- GUARDIANS: Mission to Rescue Innocence (Book 7)

\- SECRETS: Passion, Deceit, and Revenge (Book 8)

\- OUTCAST: Trust, Friendship, and Injustice (Book 9)

\- WHITEOUT: Above and Beyond (Book 10)

\- _Work in Progress … BREAKPOINTS: Slow Spiral Down (Book 11)_

_._

* * *

**COMING SOON … a NEW series … Strike Force Zulu**

_**A sneak peek of the first chapter of ZULU SIX is included at the end of WHITEOUT.**_

\- ZULU SIX (Book 1)

**_Who will become Zulu Six?_**

_Master Chief Jake Marshall selected each member of Zulu Team, the Navy's premier strike force, to fill a required niche or skill. As a whole, the tight-knit, six-man unit added up to more than the sum of their parts … necessary to accomplish dangerous and covert missions. Choosing a new man wasn't easy, particularly in a team of badass individuals who understood the value of teamwork. If Marshall chose wrong, team dynamics would suffer, and from his experience, that got people killed._

.

* * *

**Sneak Peek of Chapter 1 of WHITEOUT: Above and Beyond**

**Consumed by Flames**

_**September 23**_  
_** Rooftop Across from Whitehall Financial – 1:40 p.m.**_

Eyes locked on his scope, smoky haze obscuring his vision, Constable Dan Broderick held his breath as unwanted memories crashed in, whiting out the world around him. Ungodly screams so familiar, yet different, filled the air. Lungs burning from lack of oxygen, his body forced him to take a ragged breath. Reality slammed back in on Dan as did voices hollering commands, sirens, and the crackle of the fiery monster across the street.

Another breath in and out, his sight took in the blaze engulfing the Whitehall building. Lying on his stomach, shoulder butted against the stock of his sniper rifle, Dan lowered his head, resting his forehead on his arm as tears welled. He needed a moment to pull himself together and affix his post-shoot mask before he packed up his Remi and headed down to the turmoil below.

He registered none of his team calling for status, a factor which scared the hell out of him. They all must be as screwed up by the terrible ending of this call as he. The Nonpartisan Review Board would have a field day. Nothing went as expected … everything went to hell in a heartbeat.

After several more cathartic breaths, Dan rose to his knees and began to pack up. The billowing steam created as the fire crew put out the flames, wafted in his direction on the breeze of the first day of autumn. The dampness combined with the colder than usual September day caused Dan to shiver. If necessary, he would deflect and blame the tremors on the climate and not memories of another horrifying day in September three years ago.

Dan stood and slung his rifle case over his shoulder. He peered down at the ordered chaos, wishing he could whiteout both incidents from his memory. But he'd been at this long enough to realize it would never happen. He must work hard to shove this and the older event into the lockbox in his mind.

_**Outside Whitehall Financial – 1:45 p.m.**_

Sergeant Nicholas Pastore gave up trying to quell the need to rub his face as he stared at the burning financial building. The nervous habit demanded an outlet as he endeavored to comprehend how things went so wrong, so fast. After scrubbing his cheeks several times, he raked his fingers through his dark brown hair, which in the past two years alone gained a dusting of white at the temples. This job and all it entailed would prematurely age him.

As Inspector Pope approached, Nick settled his black TRF cap on his head and prepared to hand over control to the post-incident investigative officer, before joining the rest of the team for what would be an intense debriefing once Dan, Jon, and Lexa returned from their NRB interviews. In all likelihood, the independent watchdog agency, which kept the police force accountable and public informed, would want to speak to every team member. With the loss of life involving both hostages and subjects, there would be a rigorous inquiry of how they handled this critical call.

"Sergeant Pastore." Roman Pope came to a stop in front of Nick.

"Pope." Not in the mood to deal with the pompous inspector, Nick still had not forgiven Pope for his supercilious and insensitive remarks about Ray after the slime-ball, ex-cop Bozonnet accused his officer of brutality.

Eyeing the Tactical Response Force Sergeant, Pope straightened to his full height as a poorly disguised sneer formed. "Told you before, and I'm telling you again, if I find you or your officers crossed the line, I'll pursue charges with vigor. Being TRF doesn't give you special privileges. Gambrill won't be able to coddle and shield his pet team if my men uncover even the slightest break in protocol. The citizenry will demand justice for today's result."

Although wanting to tell the arrogant son of a jackal to go pound dirt, Nick remained professional. It would be the best way to protect his team. In the background, he noted Jon, Lexa, and Dan handing off their weapons before taking seats in sedans. "Inspector, the scene is yours. Three of my team are with NRB. The call transcript will be available within the hour."

"Make your team available. My detectives will need to interview each of you even if NRB doesn't." Plain and simple, Pope disliked Pastore. He believed TRF constables to be glory hogs who swooped in at the last moment after he and other detectives, the real cops, did the hard work. Their storm-trooper tactics put citizens at risk and caused six unnecessary deaths today.

After giving a curt nod, Nick pivoted and strode towards Alpha Team's vehicles, where Bram, Ray, and Loki stood waiting to return to headquarters. Each one appeared as devastated by the ending as him. _Wish I could turn back time and change this outcome._ He blew out a breath. _Stop. No shoulds, woulds, or coulds. The flames of the fiery beast of doubt will consume you alive if you let them._

_**NRB Office – Interview Room A – 4:15 p.m.**_

In the past two years, Dan or Jon usually took the lethal shots, so Lexa rarely sat in the NRB hot seat. Her thoughts while waiting centered on Dan. _I can't believe he's only been my teammate for twenty-six months. So many things have occurred in such a short time. The number of tough calls in my previous three years pales in comparison to the amount we've dealt with since he came into our lives._

As the door opened, Lexa straightened, donning her professional mask, preparing to focus on the impending inquiry.

"Constable McKenna, please state your full name for the record," Agent Shay Mulligan said after he switched on the recording device.

"Alexandra Isobel McKenna."

Shay nodded as he jotted down a note before returning his gaze to the auburn-haired beauty with keen hazel eyes. Her petite and delicate features wholly incongruent with the burly males he encountered in all his previous experience with SWAT officers in the States. Joining NRB after relocating from New York to live with his Canadian wife, required Shay to adjust his mindset because Toronto's Tactical Response Force boasted three female officers among their regular ranks.

He appreciated their progressive thinking because most police forces still held anachronistic views, which limited the positions to only males. He pushed aside his thoughts and focused on this terrible situation. "And your primary role on the team, Miss McKenna?"

"Profiler, negotiator, and sniper."

"Multiple roles?" Shay raised his brow.

"Yes, we all cross-train."

"Have you taken lethal action before?" New to his position, Shay had not met any TRF officers except Jonathan Hardy, though his supervisor, Kendall Stevens, indicated he would become well-acquainted with the TRF snipers.

"Yes."

Dale Gibbson, a TRF lawyer, peered at the rookie NRB agent. The powers that be insisted on the same person interviewing each officer, instead of involving three agents. The positive of the decision meant he would be able to represent each constable and sit in on all examinations. The negative, this would take a long time, and Dan, by the luck of the draw, would be last.

They finished with Jon ten minutes ago, and now Lexa was up. At least Dan wouldn't be sitting in his skivvies in a freezing room like his first interrogation. Thankfully, NRB had not hired another Donner. But still, he wanted to reduce Dan's wait. "Agent Mulligan, I suggest we stop all this background probing and focus on the incident so as not to waste Constable McKenna's time nor keep Constable Broderick waiting unduly long."

"Yes, by all means." Shay flipped open the folder with the transcript. "Tell me in your own words what occurred before you used lethal force."

Lexa realized the man would've read the call transcription, and Jon would've already relayed pertinent details, so she made her statement brief and to the point. "Alpha Team responded to a silent alarm at Whitehall Financial. Upon arriving, we discovered three subjects dressed in all black, wearing ski masks, and explosives rigged to the only exit.

"As we assessed the situation and Sergeant Pastore attempted to negotiate, it became apparent this was a copycat of the Central Bank heist two years ago. Their clothing, the way they positioned their hostages by the C-4, blacked out all the cameras except one pointed at the main area, and their outrageous demands. Almost like someone did a case study on the robbery.

"Though differences existed. For one, initially, they didn't appear to be as cold-blooded, and via negotiations, Pastore secured the release of fifteen hostages. The subjects kept three to use as human shields. I started to interview those let go, but Constable Hardy directed Constable Palomo to take over and assigned me to Zulu Three, so we maintained a solution on each subject in case Pastore ordered PapaGolf."

"Zulu? PapaGolf?" Shay wondered at the new terms Hardy had not used. He had a steep learning curve with all the new terminology.

"Zulu is our term for the sniper positions. Snipers take action when zero options remain for a nonlethal solution. PapaGolf is the permission granted signal to neutralize a subject. Broderick was Zulu One, Hardy Zulu Two, and since there are three snipers on our team, Hardy designated me Zulu Three."

"Understood. Thank you for clarifying. Please go on."

"Loki and Ray, I mean Constables Baldovino and Palomo attempted to discover information on our subjects, but without names available and their faces covered, they had nothing to search on, but believed one might be a female given her build."

Shay interjected, "Were they able to identify the remaining hostages?"

Lexa's clasped her slightly shaking hands in her lap as images of today's victims came to mind. Their deaths, unnecessary and horrifying. "Yes."

Dale stepped in. "Sir, you have the information from the previous interview. Is it necessary to rehash the details?"

Shay grimaced but nodded. "Yes, I must assess from each officer's recollection. Officer McKenna, if you please."

"Lewis Downing, a husband, father of two young boys, and a firefighter who broke his leg in a recent fire. Farshad Virk, a businessman who emigrated from Pakistan, was a single father of a teenage girl. His daughter indicated he had been ill lately. The last, Brant Sullivan, a former soldier who lost both legs and one arm to an IED in Kandahar."

Lexa wanted to talk to Dan. The death of a soldier might trigger some bad memories for him and bring on nightmares. Although, how the three hostages died would give them all terrible dreams. Their screams as the fireball engulfed them would stick with her for a long time.

Noting her paling face, and hating himself for causing her distress, Shay decided to stay within guidelines, but allow some leeway. "Did you determine any connections between any of the remaining hostages?"

"Not those inside when…" Lexa took a steadying breath, "when the device exploded, but the first person I spoke with after the fifteen were released and before I took up my Zulu position was Brant's caretaker. He didn't want to leave Brant inside, but a subject forced him out at gunpoint, and Brant also told him to go."

"Appears the subject selected individuals who posed little threat to them. Is that consistent with your assessment?" Shay jotted down notes.

"Yes, which is why Jon put me in as Zulu. They needed protecting if negotiations failed, and any of the armed subjects escalated to red."

Shay nodded. "All three captives were seated near the vast windows at the front of the building with one subject behind each, is that correct?"

"Yeah. Brant remained in his wheelchair, but the others were made to sit in chairs."

"Were they tied up or restrained in any manner?"

"No."

"How long did Pastore negotiate after you took your sniper position?"

Lexa recalled racing to the SUV to grab her Remi. She was in full view of those inside the bank as she made her way to the shop across the street. She caught the eyes of Lewis Downing, and they appeared so bleak. She wondered which firehouse he worked out of and if Duke knew him.

Blowing out a breath, Lexa answered, "Everything happened so fast after I set up. I'm not sure what caused them to escalate, but within moments of taking aim on my subject, everyone inside began yelling, and the guns raised to the backs of the hostage's heads. Pastore called PapaGolf, and I took my shot, as did Jon and Dan. We neutralized all subjects. Then the bomb exploded."

"Did any of your teammates detect a deadman switch?"

"No. That is something we search for … and none of us spotted one. The only thing I can think of is it was on a timer. Perhaps that is why they were shouting. They hadn't made their escape in time, and for whatever reason didn't or couldn't disarm the device."

Shay slid the laminated Force Continuum to McKenna. "Please indicate where you would place your subject before your action."

Lexa tapped the red zone. "Subject showed assaultive behavior with the intent of causing serious harm or death, signifying the necessity of lethal force."

_**NRB Office – Interview Room B – 5:25 p.m.**_

Dan continued to pace like a caged lion. His usual ability to use breathing techniques to calm himself and remain still, disappeared along with his appetite. Although someone delivered a sandwich and water two hours ago, he had no desire to eat, and even if he did, he doubted the food would stay down.

Needing an outlet for his tension and pent up energy, Dan stopped and placed both palms on the barren concrete wall and did vertical pushups. The hostage's screams still echoed in his head, morphing into a voice from his past, stirring the memories from another time and place he yearned to forget.

Fate is screwing with me again! Why did I end up being last to be interviewed when all I want to do is run hard and fast to escape the sounds? He needed out of this room, and earlier, he asked if he could wait on the roof, but they denied his request. Though he understood his entreaty went against protocol, he wished like hell Dale had been successful in garnering the small deviation for him … at least for today.

Letting his forehead rest on the wall, Dan fought the urge to bang his skull. If I split my head open, perhaps the relentless noise will be released … or at the very least, I'll knock myself out, giving me a short respite.

_**NRB Office – Outside Interview Room B – 5:25 p.m.**_

Dale peered in the room via the little window in the door as he waited for Lexa to finish in the ladies' room. She asked him to check on her teammate before she left since she wouldn't be able to speak to him yet. The pacing he witnessed told him Dan was not handling this incident well. The stoic man Dale typically dealt with appeared to be gone, and in his place was one more in line with Loki … nervous and full of anxiety. Dale wished NRB would've agreed to Dan's request, if they had, his client would be doing better now.

Lexa walked with purpose down the hall towards Dan's interrogation room. She so wanted to peek inside, and assess Dan herself, but asked Gibbson to do it and made the excuse she needed to stop at the restroom before going back to headquarters. She worried if Dan caught a glimpse of her, he might be angry that she checked on him.

Though on the surface they appeared professional and friendlier after their talk outside his apartment about a month ago, she didn't delude herself. She conceded, despite best efforts by both, friction still existed between them.

Lexa feared things might never return to pre-dating normal, like Dan allowing her to help him. He shut her out most of the time, and when she inquired about him after a hard take-down, she received only deflections instead of the truth. Luckily, it appeared Dan still trusted Bram, and Loki began his campaign to hang out with Dan more often.

"Did you talk to him? Is he doing okay?" Lexa came to a halt near Gibbson.

Dale grinned to reassure her. Although Dan appeared stressed at the moment, Dale didn't doubt the young, blond officer would cope with these events given a little time. "He's fine."

The use of fine spiked Lexa's concern, but then she realized Gibbson would be unaware of Dan's definition of the word, acronym actually … Fouled Up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional. "Okay. Well, I guess I'll talk with him when he returns to HQ. Thanks, Dale."

"You're welcome. And, Lexa." Dale hesitated.

"Yeah?"

He reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder. "For what it is worth, I believe you all did everything possible today. I'm certain the results of the inquiry will be favorable to Alpha Team, and you will all be back on the job soon. Until then, take some time to relax."

Lexa pursed her lips, fighting not to display her emotions in NRB territory. An exhibition of her pent-up anger would not be appropriate or professional in front of the agents and might give the wrong impression. "Thanks. I will." She pivoted and hurried away.

After her interview, Agent Mulligan informed her that due to the death of three innocent civilians, Alpha had been put on administrative leave pending the outcome of Inspector Pope's and NRB's investigations. He couldn't tell her how long they would be off, but she expected at least a week.

_**NRB Office – Interview Room B – 6:35 p.m.**_

After recounting his version and being presented with the use of force chart, Dan pointed to the red zone. "The subject's handgun moved to the hostage's temple, and I took the shot." He slumped in his chair, realizing Mulligan would be wrapping up the interview since the chart typically was the last question.

Shay closed the file. "Thank you. You'll be notified of the results after the inquiry concludes. A cab will be here soon to take you to TRF headquarters."

"Cancel the request. I prefer to jog back." Dan grabbed the water bottle he ignored the entire time, uncapped it, and chugged half.

"It is eight miles, are you certain?" Shay gaped at the constable.

Dale understood Dan often chose to hoof-it back to headquarters, running appeared to help clear his head. "Yes, he's certain. If you need to ask additional questions, Mr. Mulligan, you may call me, and I will contact my client."

Once the agent left, Dan peered at Dale. "Thanks, as always."

"Any time. Like I told the others, take some time to relax. I'm sure this will resolve fast, and your team will be vindicated."

Dan stood, nodded, shook Dale's hand, then strode out of the room.


End file.
